Never Surrender
by FlamMabel
Summary: When a search and rescue mission of a friend goes awry, Steve is on his own, lost in the desert.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This is my first attempt at posting any fanfiction, and it's my first H50 story. I'd like to thank the amazing praemonitus praemunitus for her beta help and for the encouragement she gave me to give this a try. Thanks, my friend.**

 **This story was inspired by the song "Never Surrender" by Corey Hart. Everytime I heard it I kept having this idea. Thought I should do something about it.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own H50 or any characters related to the series. Only pleasure is gained from writing this.**

* * *

The air was hot and dry, almost crying for a relief that would never come. Long it has been since the landscape saw any moisture. Sand was the primary resident of these parts, its grainy texture blanketing the terrain. The sand longed for the cold of the night, as the temperature would plummet once the stars emerged.

A black spot on the dusty landscape billowed acrid, dark smoke into the atmosphere. Length of rotor was sprawled about in pieces, broken easily by the sand's deep grip. Unyielding, it tore the blades off of the nearby helicopter with no mercy. Heat radiated off the polished metal, slowly adding to the temperature inside the cockpit.

Inside, sweat rolled down the face of the unconscious man, tainting with red as it passed though the cuts and scrapes. His shirt was saturated with sweat and blood, and it clung to his body. Smoke assaulted his nostrils, and eyes began to move beneath closed lids as consciousness began to return. A groan escaped dried lips as lashes fluttered open, blue eyes sluggishly trying to focus.

Steve blinked several times, confusion crossing his features as he tried to get his bearings. He traced a bloodied hand across his brow, attempting to clear the sweat from his drenched face. Briefly he wondered how he got himself into this situation as his clouded brain attempted to focus. Looking around he analyzed his situation, shaking his head as though the action would rid his brain of the cobwebs that seem to have enwrapped it.

"Get it together, McGarrett," he commanded himself, as the acrid smoke floated about him like a thick London fog.

Steve's SEAL training began to come online, as the gravity of his dangerous predicament began pressing its advantage. He had to get out of there, and if it wasn't soon, he'd be BBQ. He could almost hear Danny ranting, arms flying about as if a deer fly were circling his head.

" _Only you could get yourself into this kind of trouble, Steven."_ He smiled at the thought of his partner's rant-disguised worry.

Deciding he had no time to take stock of his injuries, Steve unbuckled his belt, and wrenched his left leg out from where it was stuck between the anti-torque pedals and the bulkhead. A groan escaped his lips, as a wave of pained nausea swept over him. Glancing down he noticed the crimson stain at his side, and he breathed deeply, steeling himself for the pain that was sure to accompany his next move.

Slowly Steve moved, his hands grasping anything available to him that would assist in his departure from the smouldering hulk that was his chopper. The impact had torn one of the doors off, and it was hanging from the top hinge like a ripped arm of a stuffed toy. Steve looked around for his backpack that he'd brought with him, hoping that it did not perish in the collision.

Steve spied the pack laying in the sand outside, and a wave of relief passed over him. Again he tried to voice some assurances to himself. "Get moving, Steve," he told himself. "You've had worse. Be the SuperSEAL that Danny's always calling you and get your ass out of this copter."

Stumbling out the open door, he fell into the sand, hands grasping the grains, looking for support, his mind wishing that it was the familiar Hawaiian beach beneath dragged himself towards the overstuffed bag as though it were his only lifeline, the heat from the burning chopper prodding him from behind. The meters may as well have been miles. Grasping the bag he fell into it, drawing it towards himself with a groan. He clutched it like a child would their favourite blanket as he rolled onto his back, head dropping heavily to the sand.

Un-mercilessly, the sun beat down onto Steve's sprawled form, almost as unrelenting as the engulfed helicopter had treated him. With a pained groan Steve sat up, his trembling, bloodied fingers fumbling with the backpack's buckles. He opened the top, hand rummaging around for one of the water bottles. He grasped the smooth surface of the container, and he opened it, lips savouring the clear liquid it provided. He knew he shouldn't drink too much at once, and regrettably he snugged the cap back on and put it back in the bag.

Steve's mental training began to organize his pain, and he started cataloguing his injuries like an itemized checklist. _Mild concussion. Check. Left leg torn up, possibly fractured. Check._ He peeled away his khaki t-shirt, and took stock of his side. A large, jagged gash ran from just underneath his arm down to his hip. He could see a black piece of metal about the size of a golf ball embedded into his flesh. _Compromised side. Check._

He knew these were the largest injuries he could see, aside from the possibility of cracked ribs, the cuts that were obviously on his face, and the bruising he knew darn well his body had endured during the abuse of the had to patch himself up the best he could, and try and find a place out of the heat to regroup, or any blood loss would be the least of his problems. Danny had teased him when he was packing his bag, saying that Mary Poppins had nothing on Steve. Right now Steve would settle for her umbrella so he could use it for shade and fly himself out of here.

Steve took out a roll of 3M™VetWrap™, and a thick package of gauze, similar to the ones the medics had in the field. Sweat dripped down his face, and he blinked it out of his eyes. Whether it was more from the heat or the body trauma he'd suffered, he wasn't sure. Either way the end result wasn't desirable.

Lifting up his shirt, he eyed the piece of shrapnel like it was a trap waiting for someone who'd be foolish enough to fall for it. Drawing in a deep breath, he grasped the offending object tightly, pain etched into his features. _One...two..._

He jerked out the piece, his cry of pain the only sound for miles. Through labored breaths he fought to stay conscious as he applied the trauma pack to his wound -the coagulating agent in the pack would help slow the bleeding.

"Breathe, McGarrett," he said out loud to himself, riding out a wave of nausea that was like an angry sea ready to engulf gingerly wrapped his midsection with the 3M™VetWrap™, as it would keep the bandage in place, allow the wound to breathe, and give him freedom of movement. He dropped his shirt back down gently. It would have to do for now.

His leg was throbbing and he needed to fashion a crude support for his lower leg, or his next moves were going to be even more of a bitch. Luckily it wasn't an open fracture, or he'd have even larger problems ahead.

Steve used a small blanket that was in the pack as a cushion around his leg. He took out the inner liner of the pack and used it for the splint. His hands fumbled with the clip to a Para cord survival bracelet that was on his wrist. He'd use it to secure the splint together. As he thought about the bracelet, a slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

-Flashback-

" _Come on, Uncle Steve. Put it on!" Grace cried excitedly, bouncing up and down, a tightly coiled bundle of energy._

" _Yeah c'mon Steven, put it on." Danny prodded, his voice mimicking that of his daughter's. A grin plastered his face, as he watch his partner fidget._

" _I learned how to make it with the Aloha Girls last camping trip!" she supplied. It's a survival bracelet; and it's perfectly pink."_

 _Steve's expression was one Danny could only describe as embarrassment. He thought it was funny how his badass Navy SEAL friend could turn into putty in Grace's hands. Steve was touched that his "niece" thought of him so highly. He loved the little girl to death himself, and he'd do anything for her. Steve smiled widely at Grace as he crouched down to her eye level. Colour aside, the bracelet was well done._

" _Thank you Gracie," Steve said as he gathered the girl into a large hug. "I'll wear it all the time."_

 _Grace beamed at this and exclaimed, "Danno said that you could use it more than he would with all the trouble you attract."_

" _Oh he did, did he?" Steve ground out, his smile now forced for Grace's sake as he glanced up at his friend, who was smiling like a cat who just ate a canary. "I'll have to make sure that Danno's right there with me, in case I need to use it," Steve barbed playfully at Danny, as he stood up, hand on Grace's shoulder. "I think you should maybe make your dad a matching one in bright purple. It would match his eyes."_

 _Steve grinned as his partner's expression changed, ready for the barrage of words about to dominate his brother's next verbal spiel._

" _If we," Danny pointed between himself and Steve, like Maverick and Goose in Top Gun, "need_ _two_ _of these things during one incident, I'm taking the next plane off this rock."_

 _Steve, knowing his friend well, gestured to himself. "C'mon partner, admit it- you'd follow me anywhere. Besides, you'd miss me if you went back to Jersey."_

 _-End flashback-_

Steve came out of his reverie, tired gaze staring at the pink woven cord in his hand, his mind wondering how long ago he'd drifted into thought. His brief mental respite he'd allowed himself ended when a spike of pain drifted up his injured leg.

He unraveled the bright pink cord and began securing the splint to his leg. Winded from the task, Steve flopped back into the sand, chest moving rapidly before slowing, once he'd used his training to manage the himself to a seated position, Steve took one last swig of the water before packing everything into the backpack. Unsteadily Steve got to his feet, body swaying like a tall tree in high winds, as he tried putting a bit of weight onto his bad leg. Hissing as his wound pulled on his side, he shrugged on the back pack.

Steve looked around, unsure of which way to venture. He didn't know how far away he was from the nearest Forward Operating Base, nor exactly where he'd crashed, but he'd decided to head in the direction he'd been going before he'd landed prematurely.

Glancing back at the wreckage of the helicopter, Steve spied the damaged tail section. It was most certainly not damaged in the crash. Bits of what led to his current situation assaulted his concussed mind. Another helo. Air-to-air missile fire. His efforts to evade both. Quickly he glanced around the horizon for signs of another crashed and burning helicopter. In the distance he thought he saw what could be smoke, but he needed to be sure of the cause.

A higher sense of urgency flooded his body, and he reached unconsciously to touch his P226 that was still strapped to his leg, needing the comfort of its presence. The injuries and heat were just trumped by a more unwanted threat. Someone knew he was here. That someone was likely looking for him- and it wasn't his team.

* * *

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Well I'm finally back with another chapter to this story. It was later than I anticipated, but a death in the family and the usual normal life happenings hindered my progress. Glad to have this ready to go. Of course I have to thank my wonderful beta who I owe this story's existence to, because I wouldn't have tried this otherwise without the encouragement.**

 **I appreciate all the favourites and follows, and the reviews. They really made my day and encouraged me to keep going.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the show, and I make no money from this.**

* * *

 _One week earlier..._

"Danno!" Grace exclaimed, her hands coming up to stop the tsunami of water her father had sent her way. Danny laughed in reply, an overly dramatic sound that resembled those phony megalomaniacs in spoof movies.

"Auntie Kono!" Grace tried to get her aunt's attention, hoping at least she would rescue her from the water assault. Kono waded over, laughing as she watched the situation unfold.

"Backup's on the way,' she triumphed, approaching Danny like a Tiger shark would its prey.

Steve and Chin looked on, Longboards in hand, grins upon their faces. It had been awhile since the team had enjoyed this type of downtime, so when Steve suggested they have a get together at his place they all jumped at the chance. Steve took a long pull of his beer, spatula in hand as he flipped thick burgers, the smell of charbroiled meat filling the air.

"I'm not sure who's having more fun," Chin joked. "The adults or the kids."

"I'm not sure either, but I think the gender battles have started. From the looks of things I think Danny better radio for backup or get the white towel ready. The girls are on a water rampage." Steve replied, as he watched the playing with a small smile. "It's good to be getting a little R and R. Been long overdue."

"Amen, brah," Chin agreed with a clink of his bottle against Steve's, and each of them took another swig, both quiet in retrospect.

A splash pulled Chin from his thoughts and he grinned widely as he yelled to Kono, "Cuz I think you're losing the war."

"Looks like Danny's going to win one for the men after all," Grover observed as he strolled over, nose hovering over the BBQ as he inhaled deeply. "You keep those on there any longer McGarrett, and they're goin' to be blacker than I am." He made a show of reaching for the spatula before adding, "Why don't you let the Chicago boy finish the cookin'."

Steve surrendered the flipper with an 'I give up' gesture clearly for show. "Well by all means, Lord of the Cook. Take over. I hope you're prepared to face Danny's wrath when he complains his food is still mooing."

Chin laughed, his face conveying a silent 'Glad I'm not in your shoes'.

"Think of it as the Kobayashi Maru. The no win scenario," Steve continued to joke, smirk upon his lips.

Grover looked down at them without tilting his head, expression clearly stating he thought he was being had until Danny himself came over, having emerged victorious from his battle against Kono and Grace.

"Would someone explain to me why those look like they're still breathing?" He gestured to the food as if it were contaminated, his index finger and thumb pressed together in a gesture that looked stereotypically Italian, as if the hand signal would clearly emphasize his point. He animatedly waved the hand in the air before planting his gaze on Grover, who he'd decided was at fault.

The flipper was like a smoking gun, and Lou glanced at it before looking back at the smaller man, whose head barely reached Grover's chest. That certainly didn't stop him from feeling a little bit nervous at the intensity in the blonde's eyes. He refrained from checking his watch to see if he'd forgotten this was April Fool's Day, afraid it might add fuel to the wrong fire.

"No mooing," Danny reiterated. "Got it? I'm partial to my food being dead when I eat it. Although I'm sure Steven here would kill it with his bare hands and eat it raw."

Steve gestured to himself after Danny's comment as if to say 'How did I get dragged into this', and he cut a glance at Grover who continued to stand like a statue. He almost felt sorry for the big guy, since they threw him into a battle he wasn't prepared for. The ex SEAL's mouth quirked with a tiny smirk, when he noticed how much Danny was enjoying this.

Grover stared, finding it hard to believe Danny could say all that with a straight face and sound like he was serious. He shook his head. Maybe the heat was getting to him and this was some sort of crazy dream. He'd find that he'd wake up in his bed, and this was all just a figment of his imagination. He closed his eyes and then opened them. Nope. Danny was still there, daring him to argue.

Grover opened his mouth as if he was going to speak and then closed it again, very much aware that he looked a little like a fish out of water. Deciding that a burger was not worth his life, he decided to keep quiet.

Mini rant over, Danny turned to go sit on an Adirondack chair, Grace bounding after her father and plopping herself on his lap while she went on about how Kono and she let Danny win the water war.

Chin who had been watching the exchange in amused silence placed a hand on Lou's shoulder as if to console him. "Good luck brah," he offered before going to the picnic table to join his cousin.

"God's speed." Steve mock saluted, leaving the large man with his thoughts as he turned and headed to the cooler to grab himself another Longboard. He grabbed a second one to give to Danny, and he sauntered over to his friend and Gracie.

The young girl's face lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw Steve heading towards her. "Uncle Steve!"

Grover didn't hear the rest of the young girl's bubbly story as he stood staring at their retreat like someone who thought they'd seen a ghost, fleetingly wondering what really just happened. "What did you get yourself into Lou," He said to himself, and he looked down at the burgers on the grill that were silently mocking him. Shrugging, he went to finishing the apparently dangerous task of cooking. Next time, he decided, he'd sign an insurance policy before volunteering his services.

-H50-H50-

Two hours later with everyone full of food, they'd sat around a fire. Rachel had shown up not long before then to pick up Grace to take her to a sleepover, leaving the team to sit and chit chat.

Steve's phone rang suddenly, and glancing down at the glowing display, he got up swiftly and walked to the lanai, disappearinginside the watched his partner's retreating back, a flash of concern crossing his features. Grover, Chin and Kono all wore similar expressions, the firelight dancing on their faces.

Chin's gaze met Danny's, darkening in concern as if to ask if the blond knew what was going on.

Danny shrugged his shoulders in reply. He really had no clue as to who might be calling Steve, but judging by the hasty retreat into the house, clearly something was amiss. "I'm going to go track down our fearless leader to find out what this is all about." Danny voiced as he got up from his chair, leaving the rest of the team with their thoughts.

Danny found Steve sitting in his father's office. Whatever conversation Steve had was clearly over, since the phone was sitting dormant on the old wooden desk. After watching Steve for a few moments, Danny decided to get right to the point.

"Since you seem to be sporting aneurysm face, I gather your phone call was not a social one?" Danny faltered for a moment, quickly wondering if something had happened to Catherine. His voice changed from prodding to concerned.

"Nothing's happened to Catherine, has it? She's still ok?"

Although Danny hated what the woman had put his friend through by leaving he knew Steve still loved her deeply, and if holding on to her return was one of the things that kept Steve going, well Danny would support him in that.

His concern was dismissed by a wave of Steve's hand. "She's fine, Danny. I talked to her this morning. She still doesn't have any immediate plans to return, but she's ok. She's still safe."

Steve didn't offer anything further, and to Danny's frustration he didn't answer the question that was really burning in his gut.

"So," Danny supplied. "If that wasn't Catherine, then who or what pray tell has got your SEAL undies in a bundle."

Steve shot Danny a slight glare, knowing that his partner got this way when he was concerned or worried. He blew out a sigh, resigned to the fact that Danny wouldn't leave the room without some sort of answer that he was satisfied with. The smaller man's stance was screaming 'no concessions'. Steve wasn't leaving here without giving an answer that Danny liked.

"That was Frank Bama, Danny." Steve paused, allowing Danny to process the name, knowing full well that his partner knew who he was.

"How could I forget the man whose helicopter was a chicken coop?" Danny offered. "Not to mention his assistance with rescuing you, and helping your personal mission with Freddie." While he added some sarcasm to his first statement, Danny's tone softened when he spoke about the run in with Wo Fat and of course about returning Freddie home. He knew how much the man had meant to Steve, and he felt a pang of regret for bringing up old wounds when he saw a flinch of pain flash across his friend's face.

"So why was he calling you?" Danny inquired.

"Joe's gone missing. Frank said that he'd contacted him two weeks ago about needing a bird to help a friend. He was supposed to check in two days ago, and he didn't. Apparently this op was not on the books. Frank thought that I was the best person to contact, even though Joe said not to tell anyone or to worry. Told Frank that it was need to know." Steve ran a hand though is hair in mild frustration.

Danny wasn't afraid to voice the obvious. "This sounds exactly like Joe to do that. He's always keeping you in the dark. Be it crap with your mother, or with that bastard Wo Fat."

Danny moved to sit down across from Steve, his blue eyes fixing the former SEAL with an intense look that almost dared him to try and avert his gaze. Steve returned his friend's gaze and sighed, face dropping into his hands.

Danny pressed on. "Listen, babe, I know you feel like you should don your cape and be superman in all of this, but this is crazy. Joe didn't tell you what he was up to. You're not obligated to do anything about it."

"Danny, if Joe's in some kind of trouble, I need to help if possible. Look I know he's not exactly been honest with me." Danny interrupted Steve with a snort, which Steve ignored. "But he's always been like a second father to me. He was there when dad wasn't, helped me get through BUDs, and he's gotten me out of many sticky situations. You of all people should know that."

"He got you into the crap in North Korea with all the Shelburne secrecy." Danny said irately. He raised a hand knowing Steve was about to interrupt. "Yes, Jenna was the original instigator of your trip, but she wasn't the one hiding Doris."

Steve's feelings were well masked, and even though Danny couldn't identify what emotion was fighting for dominance in his friend, he knew what he was like. Steve was one of the most honourable, trustworthy and loyal people Danny has ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he knew that Steve wouldn't sleep if he could help and didn't.

"Danny I'm sure Joe kept this to himself to keep me safe here. He knew I'd want to go too." Steve reasoned. "He probably wasn't expecting his mission to go FUBAR, and I can't just sit here and do nothing. I can't and I won't."

Danny's voice took on a slightly pleading tone. "Steve, there has to be another way to help. You rushing in there with your hair on fire is only going to get you in trouble, or worse killed." He knew he wasn't getting anywhere as his friend's expression grew even more determined. "You're like a stubborn mule, you know that?"

Those words garnered a slight smile from his partner. "Terms are: if you're going, you're not doing this all lone wolf McQuaid. We," he gestured to himself and to the door to the lanai indicating the rest of the team, "are going to help you. Non-negotiable."

Steve leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied Danny. The smaller man could really be determined, and he drove a hard bargain. He didn't like the thought of putting the rest of the team in danger, but having them there would certainly help.

"Look, if you're sure about this, then we need to see if Chin, Kono, and Lou are on board. I doubt this is going to be a cake walk, and I haven't even been fully briefed by Frank yet." Steve was about to continue when a voice from the lanai stopped him.

"We're in brah," Chin said, as they'd obviously been eavesdropping on the latter part of the conversation.

"Ohana all the way, bossman." Kono added with a smile and a nod.

Lou glanced at everyone before smartly adding, "Who'd want to miss out on all the fun?"

Danny's smile widened as he looked at Steve. "I guess there's your answer, babe."

Steve felt a wave of pride, love and gratitude wash over him. What would he do without these people? His ohana.

"Alright then," he said in affirmation. "Let's mount up and roll out."


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm back with another chapter, and I apologize for the wait. I've found it can be hard to balance writing and everyday life. I'm sure one the weather is colder I'll have more time to spend inside and write. I've got the next chapter or so on the go already, so if I get in gear I can hopefully get those up in less than a month this time!**

 **I appreciate those who have left a review and followed/faved the story. Those make my fledgling muse happy. It's nice to know that people like what is being written, especially when one is starting out.**

 **Of course a shout out to my beta, for without her nudging, this wouldn't be where it is today. :)**

 **I realize that some travel times and geographical locations in the coming chapters may not be accurate down to the kilometer or the second, but the general idea is what I am after. I may have massaged it a little to suit my needs. Might take a small flexibility of the imagination. Like my attitude when I watch action movies- if I wanted straight reality I'd watch a documentary. :)**

 **So... enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is just for the fun.**

* * *

At Honolulu Airport, a black Camaro followed by a weather-beaten minivan rolled convoy style up to the main door of one of the hangars. Steve and Danny exited the Camaro, and began to gather their gear from the trunk. Kamekona, Max and the rest of Five-O climbed out of the minivanlike circus clowns and followed Steve and Danny into the hangar, pulling the door closed behind them with a soft click.

They walked over to a small private jet, Kamekona letting out a small whistle. "If I could only get one of 'dese for ma business. Dis would look sweet with ma logo on the side. Would look perfect next to ma chopper, brah."

Steve glanced back at him. "Yeah I don't think that would work Kamekona. This is only a loaner from an old Navy buddy of mine. I promised him I'd return it in one piece."

A poorly stifled snicker came from his left, and Steve turned to see Danny wearing a grin he didn't bother to hide. "And he believed you?" the blonde quipped.

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't wreck everything I get into," Steve rebutted quickly, effortlessly sparring with his partner.

Danny was about to say something else when Grover interjected, "I hate to interrupt this little marriage spat, but shouldn't we get a move on?"

Ignoring the jab Steve turned to Max and Kamekona, "Thanks for volunteering to take our vehicles back to HQ guys."

"Yeah and since Max has his own shiny Camaro," Danny interjected, "I don't have to worry about him behind the wheel of my car." He turned to Steve and added, "Unlike someone else I know." Steve grinned innocently at the comment in reply.

"I assure you, Detective, that I will use the utmost care when piloting your vehicle," Max deadpanned, not reacting to the banter that was going on around him.

Steve raised his hand, stopping what Danny was about to say. "Joe needs us, guys, so let's mount up," Steve nodded to their M.E. and Kamekona. "Mahalo."

Five-0 boarded the plane, and Max and Kamekona watched the jet taxi onto the runway before theydisappeared into the vehicles and pulled away, taillights vanishing in the distance.

-H50-H50-H50-

On the plane, Danny appeared next to Steve in the cockpit, slipping into the seat. He watched his friend for a moment. Steve was hanging onto the control stick as if his life depended on it, the knuckles on his hand white with the added pressure. He could tell the other man was worried. Hell, _he_ was worried. They weren't exactly embarking on a pleasure cruise, and what lay ahead of them was most likely dangerous. No doubt life threatening; and still he had no thoughts about backing out. As strange as that may seem, even to his own mind, he'd do anything for the man sitting beside him. Sure he'd never be caught admitting it in public, but Steve was like a brother to him. No way in hell was he going to let the man do this alone.

"I know what you're thinking, babe. You can forget it. We volunteered. We wanted to come, and we can take care of ourselves. Please stop worrying about us," Danny finished, his gaze daring Steve to challenge him.

"I know, Danny," Steve replied after a moment. He knew what Danny was saying was true, but his guilty conscience ran deep, and he knew that if this went south and something happened to his friends, he'd never forgive himself.

"Uh huh," Danny replied, clearly not convinced that Steve really understood. "So what's the plan? I'm assuming you have one of those. Sounds silly, I know."

Steve quietly snorted in reply, knowing Danny was trying to lighten the mood. "We're meeting Frank in South Korea where we'll refuel and find out where Joe was headed. Frank didn't want to divulge too much until we can meet in person."

"That doesn't sound like much of a plan," Danny stated, the pit of his stomach twisting like a tightly wrung out shirt.

"No," Steveagreed grimly. "It's not."

-H50-H50-H50-

They found Frank at his usual bar haunt, and Steve decided it was best to have his team wait outside, while he went in alone to talk to him. He found Frank seated at the bar, and he quietly walked up behind him.

"I see you haven't changed since we last crossed paths, Frank. Good to see you," Steve said when the older man stood up to give a friendly hug.

"Man's got to have some familiarities in life," Frank jovially replied, as he glanced towards the door. "Your team here?"

"Outside. Didn't want to draw too much attention," Steve gestured to the rest of the clientele in the bar.

"Can't argue with that," Frank agreed his voice lowering as he invited Steve to sit beside him. "Listen, Joe was headed into the 'Stan to look for his friend. He didn't say how he knew this guy was there, and I didn't ask. Wanted me to hook him up with transport," he paused, downing a shot of whiskey that had been sitting idly in his hand. "I offered to help, but Joe brushed me off, said he'd be fine. The fewer people involved the better. He promised to check in each day at fifteen hundred and….you know the rest."

Steve listened in relative silence, his mind going a mile a minute. Jesus, Joe. Sure the man was more than capable of taking care of himself, but going in alone? _'Isn't that like the pot calling the kettle black?'_ he could hear Danny saying to him.

True. He did have Catherine with him though on his last two sojourns, so technically he wasn't alone.

Reigning in his wandering thoughts, Steve voiced the next obvious question. "So how can you help us get to Afghanistan?"

Frank leaned in conspiratorially. "I can fly you and your team to a small area in Kandahar. An ex-military buddy of mine has a small camp there and connections. I'm sure he can help you with acquiring most of anything that you need. The last transmission that Joe sent said that he'd reached the town of Lashkar Gah, which is west of Kandahar."

Steve sighed. This wasn't much intel to go on, other than where Joe had last checked in from. He had no idea where Joe had been headed, or if he even found who he was looking for. He really didn't want to involve the team in this. He had the training to deal with this type of mission. They didn't. Danny's words to him on the plane echoed in his head. _'We volunteered. Stop worrying about us.'_

But he couldn't do that. He worried. These were his friends he was taking along on what could very well turn into a suicide mission. He'd led many ops into hostile territory. It was part of the job. Difference was his SEAL team was trained for those situations. They knew the job, and they knew the risks. Bottom line was his team didn't truly know what they were getting into. Not yet anyway.

Frank's voice interrupted his thoughts. "We can leave tomorrow at zero eight hundred, Steve. If you still want to do this thing."

Steve's hesitation to answer afforded him a knowing nod of Frank's head, and he offered some guidance. "Talk with your team, sleep on it. You can give me your decision tomorrow."

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "That sounds like a good idea." In truth he didn't know what to think, but decided that Frank had a point.

Steve rose from his chair and Frank, taking the hint, followed suit. "Come on," the older man said as he clasped the taller man's shoulder reassuringly. "I'll take you back to my camp, and you and your team can settle in."

"Thanks, Frank," was all Steve could muster as he followed him out of the bar and to his anxiously awaiting team.

-H50-H50-H50-

Hot, humid air floated around the camp, moisture sticking to the South Korean jungle's leaves, blanketing them with a fine sheen of perspiration. Stars blanketed the night sky, twinkling like fireflies in a dance. The moon was full, and the light cast an eerie glow on the landscape. One lone light from one of the huts was the only other source of illumination, the radiance emanating from the structure like a hot air balloon at night.

Inside, Steve sat on one of the bunks, his posture looking relaxed, but his face saying otherwise. His team had arrived moments ago; each of them seated themselves about the room, eagerly waiting to hear what the plan was. Steve was not so eager to tell them.

Chin watched Danny get up and begin pacing, a restless gesture that had him wondering if the blonde was going to wear a hole in the floor. He glanced at Kono, who was biting her lip nervously. Chin hadn't gotten much out of Steve since the meeting with Frank in the bar. A _'Later,'_ was all he could pry from the man, and the Hawaiian knew something was eating at him. He decided he'd be the one to break the silence.

"We can tell something's wrong, Steve. Frank clearly gave you some news you weren't expecting. It's written all over your face," he paused, and Steve glanced over at him and sighed. Chin continued. "We're all in this together, and nothing you say will change that fact."

The SEAL knew the older man was right. Out of all them, Chin was routinely the calmest. Like an erratic left in the wake of a glacial retreat, Chin was steadfast, and Steve relied on it.

Steve decided to plow headfirst into his briefing. "Ok, here's the deal guys. Joe's lost somewhere in Afghanistan, and his last transmission was near a town called Lashkar Gah."

Danny stopped his pacing to interrupt with an exasperated "Afghanistan? great."

Steve said nothing in reply, and Danny resumed his nervous pacing. It was almost making the SEAL dizzy. He let the information sink in for everyone before continuing. "I don't know anything about who Joe was helping, or where he was headed."

Danny was about to interrupt when Steve held up a hand to stop the oncoming barrage of words.

"However," he continued, "Frank knows a guy who has a camp in Kandahar. He has connections and he can get us what we need. He likely knows more about where Joe was headed."

Lou wiped the sweat off of his head and blew out a sigh, disbelief creeping into his voice. "This is bordering on crazy, McGarrett. We're not equipped for this. Even you should know that."

"I've been telling myself that ever since Frank briefed me," Steve agreed sadly. He and Lou had come a long way in their working relationship, and Steve respected the big man's input. "I know this is not exactly ideal, Lou. But I'm doing this, and I'll understand if you want to back out. You can stay here with Frank until we get back."

Grover leaned back in his chair, dark eyes determined. "I never said that, and I've yet to back down from a challenge. I just think we need to make sure we take every precaution. Not rush into things."

Grover knew he wasn't being entirely fair to the SEAL, as Steve had shown him that although what he did seemed reckless, there was reason and some planning that did go into it. After all, the man had done several tours, and clearly he was good at what he did, or he wouldn't be here now.

"So what's the plan, Bossman?" Kono inquired with resolve, her position on the topic clear. She was on board.

"Frank is going to fly us into a remote airfield in Kandahar that's a known safe zone. From there we'll take transport to his contact's location. Once there, we'll gather more intel, gear, and decide how to proceed," Steve finished, his eyes making contact with each member of his team, reading their faces for any sort of concerns.

Their silence ended any further debate.

"Ok," Steve announced. "We leave at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow. Everyone get some rest."

Danny hung back after everyone filed out of the room, with the intent to talk to Steve. He sat down on the bunk next to his partner.

"I know you're second guessing yourself babe, but you'd go insane if you backed out now," Danny observed, and Steve glanced over at him.

"You're right Danny. I am," Steve agreed. "I don't see this going smoothly, and as for the location..?" he paused, searching for the right words. "There are Taliban cells all over that place. No one will be safe. Are you sure you still want to do this?"

"I'm not sure about any of this," Danny began, his voice rising slightly with worry. "What I am sure about though is that you are like family to me, and you're not doing this alone."

He couldn't believe the next words he was about to say. Steve must have a bad influence on his judgement. "Consequences be damned."

Steve glanced sidelong at Danny, his mouth upturned in a small smile. "Guess I'm rubbing off on you, eh partner?" he said, tone light in jest.

"Don't expect me to go all Rambo and start putting on the camo face paint yet, soldier. I won't be enlisting in the Army when we get back," Danny joked, knowing Steve would take the bait.

"It's the Navy, Danny. And it's sailor, not soldier," Steve corrected, easily gliding into the verbal sparring. He clapped Danny on the back. "Get some rest. We've got a big day tomorrow."

Danny rose and headed to the door. "Big is an understatement. More like colossal," he said before leaving Steve alone with his thoughts.

-H50-H50-H50-

Dawn broke early as the sun crested the horizon, its bright rays burning away the night dew. The sun seemed happy, shining down on the earth, oblivious to the strenuous nature of the day and the latent danger awaiting the Five-0 taskforce.

Steve emerged from one of the huts, gear slung over his shoulder. He slid a pair of sunglasses over his eyes to shield them from the sun and wandered over to Frank, who was readying a small plane. They'd planned to leave the jet in Seoul, and Frank would take them in the supply aircraft.

An extra fuel stop, Frank had pointed out, would be a small price to pay for the unassuming look of this airplane, compared to the jet Five-0 had arrived in.

"How's the prep going, Frank?" Steve inquired, eyes wandering over the small plane's exterior.

"She's no Tangerine," Frank said reflectively, a smile on his face. "But she'll get the job done. The less we act like a light show attraction on Christmas, the better."

Steve nodded in agreement, his tone light. "I hope there's no animal wildlife in here Frank, or Danny's going to have a conniption fit."

Frank grinned knowingly, hand patting the weather-beaten body. "Nah, this old girl sees plenty of action. Ida gets too much airtime to be used as a roost," Frank added, before moving around to continue his final checks.

Steve was about to inquire where the name Ida came from, when Danny's voice interrupted him.

"Please don't tell me there are chickens nesting in this plane, Steven," Danny began as he walked over to his partner.

Steve held up a hand as though taking an oath. "Danno I solemnly swear there's no fowl living in this airplane," he joked. "Scout's honour."

Danny snorted in reply and boarded the awaiting plane, his voice slightly muffled from inside. Steve couldn't exactly make out what the retort was, but words like Silverado and feathers gave him the general idea.

The rest of the team gradually emerged from their huts, packs in hand. They filed into the plane, Kono and Chin silent on their way in. Only Grover, with no prior experience with the Bama line of flying machines wore an expression of apprehension.

"What have I gotten myself into," he said aloud to no one in particular as he disappeared inside.

Frank grinned at Steve, gesturing for him to go first. "We're Oscar Mike, son," he said.

Steve glanced up at the brightly shining sun, silently asking for luck and good fortune. With a heart full of mixed emotions, he boarded the plane.

The sun seemed to smile as it rose higher in the sky, as if it were ready to guide the team to their destination.

Frank cranked up the tunes and taxied out. The plane rose gracefully into the air, and the start of the mission to rescue Joe was underway.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Well I'm back with another chapter, and I apologize for the month wait. I guess one never has as much time as one thinks to get things done. On the bright side is that Chapter 5 will follow in a week or two.**

 **Thanks to everyone who's followed, read and reviewed. I appreciate all of it.**

 **Thanks of course to my wonderful beta, she's been a rock for me during my green attempts as a writer.**

 **I stake no claim to anything related to 5-0, and this is done for pure enjoyment.**

 **Hope you all enjoy.**

* * *

Frank guided the plane to their destination of the city of Kandahar. A small supply plane didn't attract too much undue attention, as runs to and from the area were quite common. Private dealings were not out of the ordinary so few questions were asked.

Frank had loaded the plane with an assortment of goods, and he'd created a false log to show a shipment to an area not far from his contact. With all the bases covered, their arrival into the dusty country of Afghanistan was surprisingly easy.

The team got up and began to gather their equipment once the plane had taxied to a stop. Frank emerged from the cockpit, his flowery shirt looking out of place for the current surroundings. He made eye contact with each member of the uptight group, sensing their apprehension. The tension in the air was so thick it could be sliced with a knife.

Hell, he couldn't blame them. Only Steve appeared to be the most relaxed, but given his previous experiences, Frank understood.

"Gents and lady, we've now arrived in the wonderful city of Kandahar. The area's not all hostile, and there are plenty of American units in operation here still, of which I am sure Steve is aware," Frank paused, and Steve nodded in affirmation. "However..," he continued, "seeing as I flew us here under the guise of running supplies, and this op isn't above board, it'd be wise not to draw too much attention to yourselves too quickly."

Danny rocked on his feet, unable to stay still, his unease the most clearly visible. Hands wafting the air, he voiced his concern that was laced with the Williams brand of nervous agitation. "And how, pray tell are we supposed to do that in a place like this? I'm sure there are terrorists crawling all over the place like roaches in a cupboard."

Steve smirked at his friend's penchant for the dramatic. He knew Danny tended to get this way when he was nervous, so he placed a comforting hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Don't worry, partner. It'll be fine. We'll hide our gear in these containers and take our supplies to the base camp. We'll look like simple traders," Steve assured him. "Trust me."

Danny snorted sarcastically. "Why do I get the feeling I'm about to enter the lion's den and I don't have a chair?" He had a bad feeling about all of this, and he wondered how Steve managed to look like he was about to go for a stroll in a park.

Steve's concerned eyes lingered on Danny for a minute before he looked to Frank. "So, what's our next move?"

Frank pulled out a map from one of the bulkhead storage units, and laid it out on the table. He pointed at their current location. "We're here," he stated, before sliding his finger along the map. "Here's Lashkar Gah, where Joe's last comm chatter originated. Here," he pressed his finger on an enlarged map of Kandahar on one side of the page. "Here is where my buddy Captain Brad 'Fox' Hunter has his camp."

"Fox Hunter?" Danny interjected with a laugh. "That's creative. I'm sure the other animals are breathing a sigh of relief at that."

Frank looked up from the map to meet Danny's amused expression. "Actually," he clarified with a smirk of his own, "he looks more like Fox Mulder from the X-files."

"Guess we can't trust anyone here then," Danny prodded, surprising the team with his knowledge of one of the show's monikers. "What...? It was a great show."

"And I'm sure you were overcome with emotion during any alien birth that may have occurred," Steve jokingly supplied, a smirk on his face.

Danny's voice rose another few decibels. "Overcome with... I'll have you know that movie has some beautiful moments in it. Which I may add were nearly ruined by your attempt at sneaking into my apartment," he retorted.

Frank looked between the two partners as he jokingly inquired, "How long have you two been married?"

"Ok," Steve stated, holding his hand in front of Danny, who was about to verbally unload on Frank. "Let's get back on task here."

Danny bristled like a dog before standing down, his demeanor turning serious as the reality of what they were here for and what they were about to do hit home.

"So we head due east from here with our 'supplies', and meet with the Captain at fourteen thirty hours," Steve instructed, the details already mapped out in his mind. When Frank offered nothing else, Steve's eyes met each one of his team's, seeking their approval. When he saw nothing but determined faces, he nodded.

"We're Oscar Mike, then. Frank," Steve said as he turned to look at the wily vet, and they heartily shook hands. "Thanks for everything, and we'll be in touch."

"Hooah," Frank replied with a grin, and he watched Five-0 deplane.

-H50-H50-H50-

Two vehicles trucked down terrain that passed for a road, tires kicking up dust and dirt into the air. The heat was thick, the air hot yet devoid of moisture. Danny's eyes were slits as he squinted behind sunglasses, and the dust managed to evade his attempts to block it. He felt like he was covered in a thin layer and to his chagrin wished for the warm lush environment of Hawaii. He looked over at his partner, who looked to be right at home.

Steve could deny it all he wanted and stamp classified onto Danny's forehead for all he cared. The taller man had definitely done this before, yet something in Steve's expression also suggested to him his friend's mind was elsewhere.

Steve could sense Danny watching him, and he took his eyes off the road to engage his partner.

"What?" Steve inquired curiously, when Danny looked out over the partial windshield, averting his gaze.

"Surely you've done this before. You're driving nonchalantly like you're heading to Kamekona's shrimp truck for lunch. How can you be so relaxed?" Danny finally blurted out, opting for keeping things light, hoping Steve would volunteer his feelings.

Steve stared at Danny, jaw flexing. While Danny may have thought he exuded calmness, deep down he was a wildly whirling hurricane of emotion that threatened to tear him apart from the inside out. The appearance that he was truly relaxed was so far from the truth that his friend wouldn't believe him even if he'd swore on his father's grave.

Oh, yeah, he'd done this before, just not with his team of closest friends with him. No, he scolded himself. Family. Something dark flashed in Steve's eyes before he averted his gaze out the windshield, and stared at the road as if in a trance.

The look in Steve's eyes was not lost on Danny, and the sudden outward change in his friend's body language spoke volumes, even though the SEAL never verbally answered his question. He really wanted to find out what was bothering his friend. Danny thought Steve could be like a tortured animal sometimes. One moment you could be making progress in gaining trust and acceptance, and one wrong move could cause him to close up again, tighter than a clamshell. At that point you'd be starting over, just to get him to open up.

Over the years Danny had gotten Steve to let down his guard and shed some of the impenetrable armour he wore like a heavy suit, weighing his spirit down. No way was he going to allow him to keep whatever was bothering him this time locked away, as if he had a penance to serve.

Danny carefully decided to prod, and get right to the point. "Okay, Super SEAL, out with it. I know something else is bothering you besides our current locale. You've been darker than a thundercloud ever since we landed in this godforsaken country, and your mind is most definitely elsewhere. So what is it? What's eating away at you? Talk to me. Please."

Steve expression was hard, and he chose not to reply. Danny didn't need to bear the weight of his fears on top of his own. He avoided meeting Danny's concerned face, afraid that look alone might cause him to open up.

"Steve, please. I'm worried about you. You shouldn't have to feel that this is yours to carry alone. It's not all on you," Danny finally pleaded.

"Isn't it?" Steve pinned Danny with a dark stare, unable to stop the tidal wave of words that began flowing from his mouth unchecked. "I'm the one that agreed to all of you coming here with me. I let you all talk me into it. This place is dangerous, Danny... and I knowingly brought you all here against my better judgement. I can't stop second guessing myself."

Danny remained silent, his expression pained as he ran a hand through his blonde locks. He waited for Steve to continue, glad he'd finally pried open the floodgates.

"You're wrong Danny, about me acting nonchalant. I am afraid. I'm afraid for Joe. Is he even still alive? Did I bring everyone here for nothing? What if I put you all in danger to save a dead man," Steve looked at Danny with a countenance of someone carrying too much emotional baggage. "But what I'm most afraid of is something bad happening to one of you, and not being able to stop it."

Danny stared at the side of Steve's face, processing the words he'd just heard. He berated himself for his lack of awareness at how Steve might be taking all of this. How could he have been so short-sighted? He knew Steve carried guilt like it was an immovable cloak, and while his friend might be used to the dangers, the man would shoulder all the responsibility if things went south.

"I'm sorry, babe," Danny finally said, his voice soft. "I'm so used to you going all Super SEAL that sometimes I forget your fears come in different shades," he added, carefully gauging Steve's reaction. "Please don't think this is all on you. No matter what happens, we'll face it head on together. You don't need to do this alone. We're here. We're a team, and we'll take care of each other, for better or worse."

"I know, Danno," Steve replied with a light smile.

The familiarity of his nickname allowed Danny to feel better about Steve's state of mind, and he grinned mischievously. "Soooo... you never really did say whether or not you've done this before."

Steve returned Danny's grin with one of his own. "Well partner... if I told you then I'd have to kill you."

Danny's eyebrows rose into his hairline "You'd have to...," he trailed off at Steve's smug expression. "One of these days, Steven..."

Kono bit her lip as she watched the animated discussion unfold in the vehicle in front of her. Chin noticed his cousin's tell-tale sign of apprehension, and he looked at her with concern.

"Are you ok, cuz?" he questioned.

"I've just got a bad feeling about this, Chin," Kono replied, a hand brushing a lone hair from her face and back into her scarf headwear. "I can't shake it. I know bossman's done this before, and I trust his judgement, but I feel like we're entering the belly of the beast."

"I know what you mean, Kono," Chin agreed, his brow tight. "This isn't going to be easy, but at least this time we're all here as a team. We should be thankful that we are able to help Steve, because you know he would have done this without us in a heartbeat."

Grover leaned forwards from the back seat, his head between that of the two cousins. "I think it's a good thing we are here. As long as I've known Steve so far I've never seen him do anything the easy way. The man is a trouble magnet."

Chin raised an eyebrow as he and Kono exchanged silent words. "Those were just the tip of the iceberg, brah," Chin replied. Best not to elaborate too much.

Grover slumped back into his seat. One thing's for sure, Five-0 is never boring, he decided. He closed his eyes. "Guess I'd better get some shuteye. I get the feeling that soon enough there won't be much time for that," he remarked sarcastically.

-H50-H50-H50-

Two figures lay prone on the peak of a sandy culvert, binoculars trained on the convoy of the two Five-0 vehicles that were navigating the dusty road below them. One man studied the occupants closely, his magnified gaze watching them round a bend, before disappearing from view.

Afzal looked to his companion. "Keep watch," he said in Pashto. "These do not look like simple merchants."

"I do not see why you think that," As'ad stated. "They look to be making a supply run to one of the villages."

Afzal shook his head. This man would never advance his standings, and while he himself was stuck here on patrol, he was not getting any closer to being Abdul Al-Rashid's right hand man. Praise be to Allah's grace and will, he planned on changing that.

"Allah has shown me a sign that those people are from the western world," he assured his friend. "He wishes for us to report back to Al-Rashid what we've seen, and cleanse our land from their influence."

Not waiting for another comment from As'ad, Afzal led the way back to their vehicle on the leeward side of the dune. They jumped into the jeep and tore back to camp, Afzal already patting himself on the back for his observation.

He will be rewarded for his service.

* * *

 **TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note- Well I'm back with another chapter as promised. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourited my story. Means a lot to me, and my confidence level.**

 **Shout out to my beta- you are a Godsend girlfriend! :)**

 **As usual I own nothing related to the show. Just have my own enjoyment of trying this writing thing out.**

 **Hope everyone enjoys.**

* * *

The team pulled up to Captain Hunter's operations area, which on the outside looked like a simple village. Locals went about their business, and to Danny's surprise this place looked nothing like an American compound.

Two imposing people moved in on their convoy, and Danny warily watched the armed men who didn't bother to hide their intent, should a reason be given for them to open fire.

Steve noticed Danny's apprehension. "Relax, Danny. Frank's already briefed the Captain of our arrival. This is just a standard precaution in case we're not who we say we are."

"Yeah well, forgive me if I don't relax when an AK-47 is pointed in my direction," Danny replied.

"At ease, gentlemen," came a commanding voice from inside a nearby structure that could only be described as a makeshift home. "These boys are ours."

Captain Brad 'Fox' Hunter appeared after pushing aside a red cloth that was functioning as a door. He wasn't a tall man, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in stature. Brad looked to be in his late fifties, well built, with short salt and pepper hair.

When dressed in local garb, the only tell-tale sign this man was U.S. Military was the tattoo of his former unit on his bicep; and you'd have to be close enough to see it. Which if you were an enemy in that close a proximity to him, your next stop would be the grave. Brad definitely was not an individual one would willingly engage, even if his face did resemble a gentle TV persona.

Steve was the first to get out of the jeep, and he walked over to Brad and offered a friendly handshake. "Captain Hunter, I'm Commander Steve McGarrett."

Brad heartily returned the gesture. "Call me Brad, Commander," he instructed. "We're not too formal here. Keeps a lower profile that way."

"Alright, Brad. Call me Steve," McGarrett replied.

The rest of Five-0 team had gotten out of the vehicles and had now joined the pair. "Brad this is the rest of my team. Detective Danny Williams, Officers Chin Ho Kelly and Kono Kalakaua, and former SWAT Captain Lou Grover."

Brad shook hands with the team and then gestured to their jeeps as he addressed one of the men who had been keeping watch. "Brick stow their gear in section C, and get those jeeps under wraps. Don't want to draw any unnecessary attention," Brad ordered.

"Roger that, Fox," Brick replied, and he appointed another man to assist him.

"Follow me, gentlemen and lady. Let me show you our command center," Brad offered, leading the way back into the red-curtained building that he'd come out of.

They passed through a series of interconnecting buildings to another area, this one containing some electronics, boards, and what looked to Steve like a briefing room. All powered by amazing silent generators. Remarkable.

Desert coloured netting covered some of the outside areas, sheltering some vehicles from prying eyes. The whole settlement looked to have the same sort of buildings, each one strategically hiding sensitive materials.

"Quite the setup you've got here, Captain," Grover observed, impressed with the layout.

"We try," Brad replied with a nod, acknowledging the compliment. "It's taken some time to get organized, and to situate ourselves here. There are plenty of insurgent patrols that blanket this area, so we need to stay diligent at remaining blended in. We've been here long enough now that they believe we're a simple village. Best to keep it that way."

"So how much to you know about Joe's mission, Brad?" Steve inquired once they'd come back to the briefing room.

Brad gestured to some chairs and everyone took a seat. "Joe's last transmission to me came from an area on route to Zaranji. Somehow an old buddy of his contacted him, requesting his help. I didn't get into the how's and why's with Joe, but he chose to take the longer route in hopes to evade detection. Hence why he came here first. The military isn't too sympathetic to personal missions, and he had no one else to contact but Frank Bama."

Brad tapped a few buttons on a nearby laptop. A map of Afghanistan popped up and he pointed to the screen. "Here's Lashkar Gah, and here...," he tapped the screen roughly with his finger. "Is Zaranji. There's a hot zone not far west of Lashkar Gah, and I've reason to believe that is the area likely responsible for his comms silence."

Steve blew out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Jesus, Joe," he said to no one in particular. "Ok. Brad, are there any specific routes that would offer the minimal amount of resistance from the cell that you mentioned?"

"There are a couple that would be your best options," Brad advised as he blew up the map with a couple of finger swipes to the screen. "This pass not far from our location offers a decent amount of ambiguity. There are a few small settlements that are pro-American, and will offer any protection they can provide. The drawback to these places is the insurgents know they are sympathetic and routinely conduct searches. Use these with caution," he warned.

"This just keeps getting better and better," Danny chimed in.

Steve cast Danny a look of understanding, wishing that he'd just done this alone in the first place. What kind of leader knowingly takes their team into hostile territory?

"I know that look, Steve," Danny knowingly observed, interrupting Steve's self-recriminating thoughts. "Don't even think about taking off by yourself."

Chin nodded in agreement with Danny, his even tone of voice bringing a sense of calm to the room. "He's right, brah. There's safety in numbers."

Steve crossed his arms and silently stared, studying the screen as if mesmerized. "Ok. You've all made your point. I can see it on your faces."

Danny's shoulders slumped with relief. "Good...good," he repeated, as if trying to convince himself that Steve was indeed going to follow through. His relief was short lived when his mind processed his partner's next words.

"Brad, any possibility that you have a helo hidden here that we could do some recon in? I'd like to get a better idea of the route and look for any choke points my team and I might encounter. I don't want any surprises."

"No. No way, Steven," Danny's voice interrupted whatever Hunter was about to say. "What did we just talk about? Huh?" His hands flew in the air, frustration in his voice.

Steve opened his mouth to reply only to snap it shut when Danny held up a warning finger stopping him.

"No, I'm talking now, you get to listen. Not a moment ago you just agreed to put the Super SEAL on the backburner, and do this as a team. A _team_...," he gestured to the group in the room. "Means all of us."

"Are you finished, Danny?" Steve said irately. "Because I'd like to finish laying out the other part of my plan."

"Well by all means, Captain America," Danny jabbed. "Regale us with the rest of your plan that apparently involves the rest of us, and doesn't have you taking off alone." Danny knew his tone was more barbed than he'd meant it to be, but sometimes he just wanted to slap some sense into his friend.

Steve flinched and his expression darkened slightly, but he didn't comment on the blonde's tone. "Brad, do you have a helicopter that would work? I don't want to draw any undue attention doing this."

Brad glanced between Steve and Danny, before looking at Chin, Grover, and Kono. The fact that no one was reacting outwardly to what he considered a lack of respect, suggested to him that the display was not abnormal.

Steve noticed Hunter's hesitation. "It's fine, Brad. Danny just gets wound up like this when he's concerned. We're good."

Danny scowled at Steve's comment, but didn't reply.

"Ok," Brad nodded. "I've got a bird you can use for your recon. She'll blend in nicely. I'd like one of my men to accompany you, and assist with the mapping of the route. He's one of the best there is. I suggest you two make your trip a quick one."

Danny clearly wasn't having any part of this insane plan, and while he kept his mouth shut, he didn't hide the displeasure from his face.

"Kono, you and Lou work with Brad's team on surveillance. I want you to get familiar with the equipment, and integrate ours. Get me sat maps, and any other intel you can find surrounding the route from here to west of Lashkar Gah," Steve instructed.

Kono nodded her understanding. "Roger that, boss. We'll make it happen."

"Good," Steve nodded with approval. He turned to Chin. "You and Danny go through all of our gear, and get an inventory on what we have, and any shortfalls that need addressing."

"I'll have Brick work with them, Steve," Brad offered. "He can help with anything you may need. We'll also get all of you outfitted fully with our local attire. Around here, looking like you belong can save you precious minutes if someone gets suspicious."

"Agreed."

Brad raised his voice, calling out to the next room. "Brick!"

The man who gave the team an armed greeting upon arrival strode into the room. Shawn 'Brick' Thomas was aptly named, as he was a solid, tall, burly fellow. His face sported a large, dark beard, one that came from his time living here. Brick was a gentle giant, as long as you were on his side.

"Yes sir?" Brick inquired.

Brad gestured to Chin and Danny. "Work with Five-0 to make sure their loadout is mission ready. And have Tac help Kono and Lou with electronics."

"Roger that, Fox." He grinned a toothy smile at the two men. "Come on boys, let's get you set up."

Steve watched his team move to follow Brick out the door, his expression tight.

Danny rubbed his hands together with unease, and looked at Steve with a gaze that told the SEAL he was not a happy camper. He turned and quietly followed the team, leaving Steve watching his retreating back. Danny's silence was a far, far worse sign than when he was talking.

Steve pressed his fingertips on the table and tiredly leaned forward, sighing as he bowed his head.

"I take it he's not too happy," Brad observed, his voice quiet.

"No," Steve stated flatly. "He's not."

Brad mulled over Steve's words. "You're not going alone, Steve. Tac will be with you. He's more than capable, and he'll make sure you get maximum information with minimal exposure. He's one of my best. I wouldn't send him if I thought otherwise." He sat down, propping himself on the edge of the table, arms crossing in front of his chest.

" _I_ know that, Brad. I do. It's just Danny... well...I've had some FUBAR ops that have him on edge," Steve raised his head, blue eyes meeting Brad's green ones. "He's afraid if this personal mission of mine that he fought hard to be a part of goes south, I'll take off on my own and be in danger. Danny cares a lot. He's my best friend and partner. He's like a brother to me."

Brad nodded. He understood how close people could become when subjected to the harsh realities of life, and the perils of combat. "I understand, Steve. Trust me, we'll do this together, and you and Tac will get the job done. I know that's a hard feeling to grasp, given our line of work, but we've all come this far. We must be doing something right."

Steve smiled wanly, and Brad moved from his perched position against the table to slap a good natured pat on Steve's shoulder, hand lingering. "Grab some shuteye, and I'll have Tac brief you here at nineteen hundred."

Without waiting for a reply, Brad disappeared leaving Steve alone with his thoughts.

-H50-H50-H50-

Afzal sped up to their compound, and paying no heed to the sentry who had the business end of a Kalashnikov pointed at him, shouted out the entry word for the day.

The gate opened and he muscled the jeep to a stop inside, As'ad hanging on for his life. Jumping out, Afzal strode purposefully towards Al-Rashid's dwelling, As'ad in tow.

"We will report our findings to Abdul Al-Rashid. He will guide us in the next course of action," he stated to his friend.

Afzal knew this would please his leader. His information would aid his progression through the ranks. He was sure of it. He was a simple man, but filled with purpose. He ran a hand through his jet black beard with anticipation of what was to come, and he headed inside.

Al-Rashid sat upon a crimson rug, his aged face covered in a gray beard. His eyes were cold and devoid of any emotion, and he pinned Afzal with a look that said ' _Get to the point_.' One didn't waste Al-Rashid's time with pleasantries.

"I have news, Al-Rashid," Afzal began as he struggled to remain still beneath the older man's piercing gaze, excitement permeating his voice. "We have observed what appear to be Westerners travelling along the northeastern passage, towards that village. The one I have said could be home to Americans."

Al-Rashid waved a hand dismissively, as though Afzal's claims were of no concern to him. "What makes you so sure of this Afzal? You have made such claims before that yielded no results."

"This time is different, Al-Rashid," As'ad piped in, and he cringed under the man's glare. "We noticed a woman with some men who didn't appear to be fully clothed properly, and..."

"How do you know they weren't simply merchants?" Al-Rashid interrupted brusquely.

Afzal hid his frustration. He _knew_ what he saw, and this time he was sure of it. Allah would not steer him wrong. He was loyal. He decided to try another avenue.

"It was Allah's will that we were there today, Al-Rashid. He has seen to it we were made aware of these people infiltrating our lands."

Al-Rashid was silently scrutinizing the two men, and Afzal knew he had him when the older man leaned over to whisper to someone on his right. "Very well, Afzal. You and As'ad will go to the village, and report back. Should your findings be accurate, we will act against this tyranny."

Afzal nodded and was about to turn to leave when the older man's voice stopped him.

"But be aware," Al-Rashid warned darkly. "You have used up what remains of my patience, and if you are incorrect, you will find that I will not be so lenient. Nor will Allah."

Afzal and As'ad inclined with a minute bow, and they quickly headed out of the house.

Once outside, As'ad turned to his overzealous comrade. "What are we going to do Afzal?" he cried. He was not prepared to feel the wrath of Abdul Al-Rashid, should Afzal be incorrect about what he saw. He had a family to think about.

Afzal pulled his friend in closer to him. "We will do what Al-Rashid asks of us. In the end he will see that I am right. I've no doubt of this."

He moved back to the jeep, grabbed the hand-held radio and waved it at As'ad. "We will go spy on that village camp, and use this to report in." He tucked the radio into his robes, and grabbed the binoculars he'd been using earlier.

"Let's meet back here tomorrow morning," Afzal stated. "Go and be with your family tonight, my friend. For tomorrow we will do what Al-Rashid requested. Praise be to Allah."

As'ad nodded with hesitation, and shuffled was not sure about all of this, but perhaps it is destiny after all. He would find out soon enough.

Afzal stroked his thick beard while watching his friend leave. Tomorrow would bring great things. He was sure of it.

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Danny mumbled under his breath as he grabbed two magazines from the rack in the 'armory', as Brick had called it. He was still having issues with Steve taking on the recon mission, and nothing anyone could say would change it. He couldn't rid himself of the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, no matter what he told himself.

Chin watched Danny with sympathy. He wished he had the words to quell the blonde's agitation. He couldn't even convince himself that things would be ok, so how was he to expect Danny to believe any words of comfort he could offer?

He settled for agreement. "I know what you're thinking, Danny. It's not an ideal situation, but we both know Steve's quite capable of handling himself."

Danny slammed the backpack he'd been holding onto the table harder than he'd intended, his anger rising to the surface. This wasn't Chin's fault, he knew, but he needed a verbal punching bag, and Chin had just hung himself up as the piñata.

"Don't you think I know that?" Danny ground out. "I know Steve's probably done things that even I don't care to learn about, but it feels like every time there's some type of personal mission, he takes off and something goes wrong. And I'm the one left worrying, wondering if he's ok."

Chin gently set an HK416 onto the table and leaned against the wall, arms folded. He quietly let Danny unload his anger onto him, allowing the fiery man to vent his frustration.

Brick, for his part, allowed the scene to play out before him. He grabbed a backpack and silently started to pack it, dark eyes shifting between the two men. Their personal business wasn't his to interfere with, and since no one had thrown any punches he decided to watch their exchange, reserving his opinion about it.

Danny fidgeted with pent up energy, his hands moving in and out of his pockets as be began to pace. "God damn it. Just...," he paused when he noticed Brick and Chin quietly observing him, the latter wearing a grim expression, his eyes dark.

Defeated, Danny slumped into a nearby chair, his hand rubbing his face.

"Chin, I'm sorry. I know this is not just on me, and we're all feeling the stress surrounding this rescue mission. I just...," he trailed off, searching for the right words to say.

Chin spoke, his voice even, almost hypnotic. "I get it, brah. I do. We're ohana. All of us. We care about each other. The reaction is human, Danny. Just know that we're all doing this as a team, and it looks to me that Brad has a very capable group here. No one is doing this alone, least of all Steve."

"He's right, Detective," Brick interjected, hands planted firmly on his waist. The wide, toothy smile was back, and Danny found it slightly infectious.

Danny nodded at the taller man, a thin smile on his lips. Brick's probably seen all sorts of crap living out here, and if he can see the positive side of things, it wouldn't hurt Danny to try.

"Well," the blonde said with slightly more confidence than he felt. "Let's finish packing so we can be ready when our favourite Super SEAL's done his helicopter run."

Brick smiled at the two men, and resumed packing their gear, his tone light. "Amen to that my brothers, amen to that."

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Steve sat at the briefing room's table, awaiting Tac's arrival. It was nearly nineteen hundred, and even after some rest he didn't feel much better now than after Brad left him.

He drummed his fingers on the table more out of indecision than impatience. He felt like a treeless embankment next to a wildly flowing river. Eroding away with every minute further he went into this God forsaken rescue mission. It was eating away at him, and there was no relief in sight. A rustle pulled him from his musings and he looked up to see Tac stroll in.

Tac grabbed a chair, turned and straddled it like he'd just mounted a horse, and rested his forearms on the backrest. "You look like shit, McGarrett," he observed, a crooked smile on his sun-worn face.

Steve offered a wan smile in return. "I feel like it too. Part of me wishes this were all a bad dream and I'm going to wake up soon."

The younger man nodded in understanding. "I hear you. Trust me when I say that I'll do my best to make sure this bad dream doesn't turn into a full blown nightmare."

Steve leaned back in his chair, hands cradling his neck. Damn, this was all giving him a headache. "Ok, Tac. Let's get to it then. Show me what you've got."

Tac tapped the screen of the tablet he'd been holding when he came in, and the screen flared to life. He brought up an overhead map view of the area, and he pointed at the screen, fingers dancing across its surface.

"Fox tells me you know how to fly, so you do the pilot shit, and I'll be your GPS," Tac grinned at his own joke, eliciting a tired smile from Steve. "We'll get as much data in as we can with the flybys, and we'll head back here to base. We need to do this carefully, Steve. I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, but the less time we spend in the air, the less likely we are to be spotted by a Taliban cell. Our bird looks like theirs, and she'll get the job done, but she's not immune to prying eyes."

"I hear you, Tac," Steve replied, as he pointed to a dot that represented Lashkar Gah. "Since Joe was last here, this will be our first destination."

"Alright, that works. Once we get back we'll make sure you and your team are prepped and ready to go. I'll have all the data linked to a tactical watch for your op." Tac jumped up from his chair, concluding the briefing. "Our bird will be fueled and ready to rock and roll at zero nine hundred. I'll see you on the helo 'deck'.

Steve watched Tac leave, and he sat staring at the image left on the tablet. "Joe, wherever you are, I hope you're ok..."

* * *

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**Well I'm ready with another chapter. In record time too! Thanks to all the reviews, follows, favs. Brings a smile to my face.**

 **Thanks of course to my beta. Your kind words and support mean a lot.**

 **Usual disclaimer still applies.**

 **Hope everyone enjoys!**

* * *

The weather was warm, which was normal for a typical Afghan morning, the sun low in the sky as it began to bathe the landscape with a bright, warm aura. The temperature would rise steadily throughout the afternoon, the sun baking all those not wise enough to seek the comfort of shade.

Dressed in desert toned fatigues, Steve emerged from one of the buildings, pack slung over his shoulder. For this mission it was deemed that traditional military attire would be best suited for the job- it was meant for the task at hand, unlike the local garb. He had his sleeves rolled up in an attempt to keep things cooler for himself while inside the helo. Aviator sunglasses shielded his eyes from the sun, but he couldn't help himself as he squinted against the bright light, tiny wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.

Steve adjusted his P226 that he'd strapped to his right leg. He welcomed its familiar presence in this foreign environment, and a little firepower might go a long way in a short time should this go FUBAR. He prided himself on being prepared, which is why he had packed a backpack with this mission in mind. He knew that any number of things could go haywire at any given moment, and in this line of work if you weren't prepared, you were dead. He'd been too close too many times.

He headed over to where Tac was busy readying the helo, and silently watched the younger man do a complete check of the bird. He was thorough, and Steve welcomed the man's experience on this leg of the mission.

Tac glanced over upon hearing Steve's approach, a smile appearing on his tanned face. "A fine day for a little recon mission, eh, McGarrett?"

Steve nodded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He admired Tac's enthusiasm, but he couldn't bring himself to share it. Not with his team involved- he at least had the comfort of the knowledge that they'd be safe here on base with Brad. He was not unlike Tac when he'd begun his military career, fresh-faced and green. Always raring to go at the first sign of a mission. He'd grown since then, and he'd experienced too many things that made him humble. The rush was hard to ignore, he wouldn't deny that, but he'd since honed the raw excitement into a focused energy with purpose.

"No day is good for any type of mission in this damn country," Danny said from behind him, and Steve turned around to see his partner standing there, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking apologetic.

Steve went to his partner, and offered a nod of approval as he gestured to the locally styled outfit. "Good look on you, Danny," Steve remarked softly as he removed his sunglasses to look at his friend.

"Yeah well, don't get used to it, Steven," Danny replied. "I just don't want to stick out like a sore thumb while I'm here."

When Steve remained quiet, Danny knew his partner was bothered by how things had been left following yesterday's briefing. Judging by Steve's expression, he could tell the SEAL's guard was definitely back up.

Danny kept his hands in his pockets, unsure of where to put them and he fidgeted slightly as he mulled over what to say next. This shouldn't be so awkward, but it was. "Look, Steve...," he started, noticing how his friend seemed to tense up, as though he was bracing for an assault about his decision.

Danny removed a hand from his pocket and nervously ran it though his golden locks. "I know I wasn't exactly fair to you yesterday, Steve. You didn't ask to be put in the position of helping Joe, and I know you wouldn't be doing this helicopter mission today if you didn't think you could, or if it wasn't absolutely necessary."

Steve had been busy studying his shoes while Danny had been spilling his apology, and the Jersey man wasn't sure if he'd gotten his point across. His free hand limply fell against his leg with a defeated slap. "I'm sorry, Steve. I shouldn't have questioned you in front of Brad. At least not like that. I know what their respect means to you. I'm not built with a censor button, and you know when I get worried, I just blurt out whatever is on my mind. I care about you too much not to."

Steve looked at Danny, his gaze leaving his shoes. He nodded in reply, a tired smile on his lips. This man in front of him was truly and absolutely the best friend and brother he'd ever known. He was fortunate to have met him. "I know, Danny. I understand. I do."

Danny pulled his big lug of a partner into a hug and patted him on the back. Steve returned the gesture, and much to Danny's relief he felt the SEAL relax. He pulled back, hands still resting on Steve's shoulders. "Just watch your six, ok?" Danny advised. "I wish I could be there to help."

"I will, Danno," Steve assured, the use of the familiar nickname telling Danny that they were good, and things were going to be ok. "Besides, Tac will be with me, so I'm not alone. You make sure everything's good to go here. And have Kono and Lou get the uplink to Tac's signal ready. I want to make sure all the data gets transmitted so we only have to do this once."

"I can most certainly do that, Super SEAL," Danny agreed with a smile. He watched his friend head to the waiting helicopter where Tac had been patiently waiting. His smile dimmed as he turned to head back inside, and he pushed away the seed of doubt that attempted to cloud his mind.

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Afzal had waited for As'ad to arrive at the jeep, his excitement on display by his constant shuffling. Anxiously he ran a hand through his beard, a gesture that would most certainly be a tell in a game of poker. One thing Afzal knew was that he'd be a terrible bluffer. What felt like hours but was only minutes later, As'ad shuffled up to Afzal. Clearly he was not as excited as his companion about this.

"It is about time, As'ad. I was getting impatient," Afzal informed him irritably.

"I am sorry, Afzal. I meant no disrespect," As'ad quietly replied, head inclined.

"Yes, yes. It is no longer important. We must go," Afzal said with haste as he was already making a move to climb into the beige jeep.

As'ad followed suit, noticing the AK-47 laying on the back seat. His apprehension about Afzal's obsession since he made his apparent discovery grew another notch.

Afzal noticed his friend's trepidation as he fired up the jeep, his face a mask of confidence. "Do not worry, my friend. Allah will watch over us. He has a vision, and we have been the ones selected to carry it out."

"Of course, Afzal," he replied with more conviction, and they took off in a dusty cloud towards the direction of the suspected base camp, where Afzal was sure the westerners had gone.

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Kono had her laptop interfacing with Fox's surveillance system, her slender fingers dancing across the keyboard with practiced ease. A string of numbers flashed across the screen, much too fast for Grover to read. He watched, impressed at her display of computer prowess.

"Gee, girl, you sure do have some mad skills," Lou complemented as he grinned widely.

Kono smiled slyly, a frequent beeping that had begun only seconds ago being silenced by a firm tap of a button. Grover leaned in, a large finger jabbing at a blue dot that was flashing on the screen.

"This McGarrett's helo?" he inquired. He wasn't a stranger to this sort of thing, but with the whole craziness that seemed to surround this mission, he didn't want to make any assumptions. In this line of work, assumptions are what could get you into trouble.

"Sure is, Lou," Kono confirmed, the dot growing larger as she zoomed in on its location. "We've got a GPS connection to it. Using its signal, and the one that will be transmitted from Tac's uplink, we'll be able to map out our route to Lashkar Gah." She pressed a button, and the image from the computer appeared on a larger screen.

"Miss the smart table, hm?" Lou joked, a smirk on his face. That thing was like the Mercedes of computer devices.

"Lou you're playing with fire if you try to get into her kitchen," Chin advised as he and Danny came up behind them. Everyone stood side by side, each one of them studying the image. The joking had been replaced by silence, and the tension in the room was palpable.

"Looks like McGarrett and Tac will be in the air in a few Mikes," Brad announced as he entered the situation room, Brick in tow.

"I hope this goes according to plan," Lou stated grimly, arms folded across his broad chest. He longed for a fine Cuban cigar to calm his unease.

"It will," Fox assured. "Tac is one of the best at this, and from what I understand, Steve is more than capable."

Danny's blue eyes fixed on the flashing dot that represented his partner. He didn't want to look should the image cruelly disappear on him, but he couldn't bring himself not to watch.

"Good luck, Steven," he whispered.

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Steve was impressed at how Brad had converted a roofless building into a hiding spot for their bird. Tac had removed the concealment netting from the rooftop area moments before their planned liftoff. From above, it kept the helicopter hidden from prying satellites and enemy aircraft. To the untrained eye, the area looked like a simple housing settlement, with the locals going about their daily business. Brad was certainly humble about his success here when Steve had complemented him on it.

Tac had insisted that Steve take the flight controls while he operated the surveillance equipment. Steve slipped on the headset, and fired up the comms.

"Sandman to Sandcastle, comms check. Over," Steve said into the mic.

"Sandcastle reads you loud and clear, Sandman," Brad replied. "Good luck."

"Roger that Sandcastle," Steve confirmed. "Ok Tac, let's do this thing."

"Copy that, McGarrett. Rock and roll," Tac replied, a large grin on his face. He loved this job.

The helo steadily rose off of the ground, the thwack thwack of the rotor slicing through the hot air that blanketed the area. Tac began his program, the data being absorbed and filtered. "Head west, bearing one five four," he instructed.

"Copy, bearing one five four," Steve repeated, smoothly adjusting the chopper's flight path.

"Now all we have to do is get our data, and get back. Piece of cake," Tac relayed to Steve.

Steve was glad Tac was so relaxed, as there was a gnawing feeling in his gut that had been growing that he couldn't shake. Call it instinct. He didn't believe in paranoia. "Then let's get this done, shall we?"

"You got it," Tac replied through the large grin that had taken up residence on his face.

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Afzal tooled the jeep to a stop and killed the engine in a valley not far from what he thought to be the westerner's base camp. Eagerly he jumped out of the seat, and reaching into the back he retrieved the AK.

As'ad climbed out with less zeal, and he took the binoculars and radio. He pulled his scarf over his face, and unenthusiastically followed Afzal who had already made a beeline towards the tallest dune.

Afzal, prone on the dune, took the binoculars from As'ad, and raised them to his dark eyes. He meticulously scanned the settlement below. So far nothing looked amiss, much to his chagrin. He was prudent in his efforts to remain concealed, should anyone from the buildings be on the lookout.

Individuals dressed in local garb carried on daily chores, nothing that would raise red flags, or be remotely satisfying to Abdul Al-Rashid. And he could not afford another mistake. He would not be forgiven this time, and he knew the elder man would see to it that he never see the light of day, and die in disgrace.

As'ad's voice jarred him from his thoughts. "I do not see anything strange, Afzal," he commented quietly.

"Just be patient, my friend. A sign will make itself known. Have faith," Afzal confidently replied.

After a half hour of staring, even Afzal began to doubt his own hopes and observations. He sighed. Perhaps he _was_ seeing things that weren't there. As'ad had grown quiet beside him. He knew his friend had family to consider, and it was not just his life that hinged on the accuracy of what Afzal had claimed.

A whirring noise startled Afzal from his musings, and he eagerly pressed the binoculars against his face. "Do you hear that As'ad?" he questioned. "That is a helicopter starting up. One no doubt that is being flown by the westerners."

As'ad's concerns were slightly abated with this possibility, and he watched the settlement with a new found sense of confidence and relief. His friend was right this time. He knew it now.

Out from the secure confinements of a now roofless four- walled building rose an unmarked helo that did not look American, but that did not mean its pilots were not.

"Radio back to Al-Rashid," Afzal directed his companion. "Tell him what we have seen."

"Of course, Afzal," As'ad replied, and he backed away from the peak before retrieving the radio from his robes.

Afzal watched the helo's track as he heard As'ad on the radio nearby. "Yes. Our hunch was correct," As'ad said into the radio. He looked to Afzal. "Which way?"

"West," Afzal reported, a grin forming on his lips. He knew it was too early to celebrate, but he couldn't help himself.

"West," As'ad relayed into the radio. He paused as he listened to the directions that were being given. "I understand," As'ad continued, "we will do as you ask. Praise to Allah." He ended the transmission.

"Well?" Afzal impatiently asked, a frown replacing his earlier smile of triumph. "What are we to do next?"

As'ad hesitated. He knew his companion would not welcome their instructions with open arms. He watched Azfal's frown grow with each passing second that he didn't reply to the question. As'ad chose to hastily lay out their task, as though a faster delivery would lessen the mundane orders. "Al-Rashid wishes us to remain here and keep watch. He is sending out our recently captured Mi-35 to intercept."

Afzal's frown remained, eyes dark pools of growing anger at the lack of gratitude bestowed upon him after what he had discovered. Why was he not given the opportunity to follow through?

He heard As'ad in the background of his mind, a noise so quiet it barely registered over the pounding of his angry heart that resonated in his head. "We are praised for our find, and Allah will see to it we are rewarded, Afzal."

Afzal wanted to do more, yet deep down he knew if this was the will of Allah, there would be a master plan, and he would be tasked again soon. And with a greater responsibility.

"Very well," Afzal replied, voice monotone. "We wait."

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Danny watched the little dot on the screen that represented his partner slowly move. The anticipation was killing him.

Brad was relaxed, arms folded across his chest, in full command mode. This was just another day at the office for him. "How's the data stream coming along, Kono?"

"The stream is coming through loud and clear, Captain," Kono said with confidence. She was in her element. She kept a close watch on the stream for any anomalies that could arise during the transmission.

"Now we wait, ladies and gentlemen," Brad announced to the room.

Only silence answered him. He could tell Steve's team was nervous, and he couldn't blame them. They wouldn't relax until the helo was nestled safely back at the landing area, and Steve was physically present. McGarrett had picked a good group.

Danny's voice penetrated the air of quiet that had blanketed the room.

"What the _hell_ is that?!"

* * *

 **TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Thanks to everyone who is sticking with the story, and for all the reviews, follows and favs.**

 **Thanks again to my beta. As always, you are the best.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Steve maneuvered the helo with ease, the large bird zipping above the Afghan terrain. If circumstances were different, the view would be quite stunning. Tac was busy with his equipment, fingers dancing across the keyboard, face determined yet relaxed.

"Steve, change course, bearing one five two."

"Roger that, Tac. Bearing one five two," Steve confirmed.

The helo banked gracefully, the sun blanketing it with a stunning, rich light. "Remain on this heading. I'm getting solid data," Tac instructed happily.

"Copy," Steve replied. "What's that large town on the horizon, Tac?"

"That's Lashkar Gah," Tac informed him quietly. He knew what that name would mean to the man beside him.

"Where Joe was last heard from," Steve said sadly. He hoped his former mentor was still alive.

"You'll find him, Steve. You've got a good team under you," Tac encouraged with a smile.

Steve smiled wanly back. He appreciated the younger man's optimism. He needed all that he could get right now. "Thanks, Tac."

Tac continued to monitor the surveillance data, eyes expertly cataloguing the stream. "I've still got a good signal coming through," he announced. "Data logging proceeding as planned. Sandcastle should be seeing what we are."

Steve nodded in affirmation, and flipped a toggle switch as he opened comms chatter. "Sandcastle this is Sandman. Come in, over."

" _Roger Sandcastle, read you loud and clear, over,"_ came Hunter's voice over the comm.

"Data transmission has commenced. Are you receiving, over?" Steve questioned.

" _Roger that, Sandman. Data transmission crystal clear,"_ Hunter replied.

Steve thought he'd heard Danny's voice in the background, and his partner sounded worried. "Sandcastle, please repeat your last," Steve questioned, hoping he'd find out what was happening.

" _Sandman, be aware unidentified aircraft heading towards your whiskey,"_ Hunter's firm, command voice boomed over the line, the relaxed tone from moments ago already a distant memory.

Steve and Tac exchanged concerned gazes, both shifting gears from recon to high alert preparedness. "Scanning the area," Tac reported, all business. "Steve, let's get out of here. Now."

"You got it," Steve replied calmly, masking his worry-filled stomach butterflies that he got whenever his gut told him the shit was about to hit the fan. He adjusted the helo sharply, lowering altitude in hopes he'd mask their signature from whoever and whatever was bearing down on their location.

"I've got radar contact. Bogey coming in hot at our one o'clock," Tac ground out, eyes scanning the sky for a visual.

"Shit," Steve growled as he pinpointed a dark speck that was rapidly growing larger in his front windshield. He banked hard to the left, the helo whirring loudly in reply to the aggressive evasive maneuver. "Sandcastle, we have eyes on an Mi-35 attack chopper," the SEAL barked into the comms mike, body tense as he pushed their helo to its limits, the Mi-35 mimicking their patterns. "Bogey in pursuit. Permission to engage."

" _Sandman, fire only if necessary. We don't know what their intentions are, and I want you boys back here in one piece,"_ Hunter instructed firmly.

"Copy, Sandcastle. I'll try and lose 'em." Steve had a feeling that was going to be the reply from Brad, but instinct said they were about to have a firefight on their hands.

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" _Copy, Sandcastle, I'll try and lose 'em,"_ Steve's tense voice replied over the comms channel.

"Only fire if _necessary_?" Danny uttered incredulously. "I doubt that helicopter is there to say hello and afford them the same courtesy."

"We can't risk a firefight, Detective. This may be some kind of ploy. We don't even know whose chopper that is," Brad calmly informed the impassioned blonde.

"Data transmission has been severed, Captain," Kono announced quickly. "They've stopped their stream."

"What does that mean?" Danny quickly questioned, eyes conveying his concern for his partner's and Tac's safety.

Brad pinned Danny with a look the detective couldn't decipher, and it chilled him to the core. In the day and a half of being around the cool and collected Captain, this was the first time he saw something other than total confidence in the soldier's demeanor. He was sure he wasn't supposed to be privy to Hunter's true thoughts, but it was said that the eyes are the window to the soul, and he felt as if he'd just been a peeping Tom. He often used Steve's eyes to tell the real story on how his partner felt, so if Hunter was trying to hide something, the attempt to fool Danny would be futile.

After a moment that seemed like an eternity, Brad accepted that he'd been read like a book by the fiery Detective, and he nodded in acquiescence. "It means that they don't want their signal to be tracked back here, and they are preparing to evade hostile action."

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"Transmission severed," Tac reported to Steve. "That will prevent them from honing in on the base. Assuming they don't already know where it is," he added darkly.

Steve glanced at the younger man, worry etched into his face. His team was there. Alone. No, scratch that. They weren't alone. They were with Hunter and some of the finest operators ever to serve. He just wasn't there to help protect them.

"Bogey mirroring our movements," he reported tightly. "It almost feels like they are waiting for something."

"We can't risk any further transmissions back to base," Tac warned. "We know Fox's ROE, Steve. Our GPS will allow them to monitor our location passively using satellites. Anything else could mean bad news back home." He knew Steve was well aware of what needed to be done, but when one's friends are in possible danger, people could tend to lose focus.

"I understand, Tac. Let's wait this guy out, see if... we're being targeted!" Steve announced quickly over the frantic beeping from the HUD, his reaction lightning fast like that of a mongoose as he banked hard right.

"Missile incoming!" Tac yelled. "Stay right, stay right. Releasing chaff!" A handful of glowing metal streams fired out from small holes hear the rear of the main body of the helo, their tails looking like meteors against the blue sky.

The radar tracking air to air missile streaked towards their helicopter with one purpose in mind. To destroy it. At the last second the missile computer was fooled into thinking one of the chaff looked more appealing, and it veered towards the descending orb before impacting it in a spectacular show of pyrotechnics.

Tac's shoulders slumped in relief. "Missile neutralized. Attack helo still on our six."

"Good," was all Steve could manage, his adrenaline level through the roof. He longed for the feel of an AH-64 at this moment, its prowess in the world of attack choppers well documented. As it stood now, they were severely outgunned, and out maneuverable, even with Steve's flying ability.

"We've got to do something," Tac breathed, so quiet Steve almost didn't hear him. He appeared to be considering their options, his face frowning tightly. He came to the only conclusion there was available. "Keep them off us, Steve. I'm jumping on the 240."

Steve pulled up sharply, their chopper bucking in protest but complying. "Too dangerous," he yelled. "We can do this!"

"You know I'm right," Tac quickly reminded him, already fighting the wildly moving helo as he proceeded to climb out of his seat.

"Damn it, Tac!" Steve objected, unable to stop the young man. Deep down he knew the man was right. With no other armament, the M240 was their only defense. The major drawback was it left Tac more vulnerable to return gunfire.

Tac knew the risks, and he took them on without question. This was a dangerous job, and he would do what needed to be done. Just as Steve would. He quickly fastened the harness so he wouldn't be ejected from the helicopter, and cocked the big machine gun.

"This girl's got some claws to her, Steve. Time for her to fight back. Opening the door!" Tac yelled over the wind noise that rushed into the cabin when he cracked the seal. With the door pinned open, he watched the barren terrain below whizz by him. "Let's do this! Who-ah!"

Steve banked sharply to the left, only to cut back to the right to expose the Mi-35 to their waiting gun. Tac squeezed the trigger, the large gun bucking with the recoil, the mount the only thing keeping it in place. The large belt feeding the lead-breathing beast rapidly disappeared into the chamber, hot brass raining onto the earth below, some errant casings pinging off the helo floor.

Caught by the unexpected switch from being predator to prey, the Mi-35 was slow in her reaction, the satisfying sound of bullets piercing the fuselage filling Steve and Tac's ears.

"Yeah!" Tac rejoiced, only to watch the Mi-35 shrug off the rest of the barrage, and respond with one of her own. "They're firing!"

Steve dove their chopper harshly downwards, nose heading directly at the ground below. The first volley whizzed above, narrowly missing the main rotor, and Steve fought to pull up. "Come on, girl," he coaxed as he pulled back roughly on the cyclic, the nose coming up leaving them little room to spare. "Give them the lead, Tac!"

Steve doubled back immediately following the drastic nosedive, and then he heard the bullet breathing dragon in his ear raining hellfire onto their enemy.

"Take that, you bastards!" Tac threatened as he continued to fire like a madman hell bent on annihilation.

The rounds hit their mark, this time puncturing the fuel compartment, and clear JP5 aviation fuel began to leak from the holes like blood from a wound. The Mi-35 sputtered with the sudden loss of fuel pressure, her time left in the air limited. This knowledge gave the enemy a more determined edge as it headed towards them firing wildly, intent on martyring themselves in a head on collision.

The sudden move of desperation afforded little time for Steve and Tac's helo to react, and the rounds pounded it with a jarring force, penetrating the fuselage and whatever was on the other side. A cry of surprise and anguish rang horrifyingly loud in Steve's ears, and he mentally shut his eyes against the cruel reminder that war was hell and friends could die. He knew what has happened without even trying to look or to call out the young man's name.

Uncaring to the tragedy she had just inflicted, the Mi-35 fired again as she bore down on them. The rounds struck the tail rotor, causing Steve to suddenly lose control, the rear end snapping around towards the front.

Steve didn't have time nor the ability to fight the wildly spinning airframe, and since the Mi-35 had been on a collision course, he let the tail snap right into the enemy helo. The crash of metal against metal screamed high pitched bloody murder as both helicopters lost control.

The enemy helo twisted and turned as it spun away, fuel spilling out of her severely damaged frame, and she quickly descended, disappearing over a dune and crashing to the ground below.

His relief over no longer being threatened was short lived as his own dire situation demanded immediate action. Steve futilely attempted to right his bird, but to no avail. He spun out of control, the crashing helicopter unrecoverable as it slammed into the barren, dust covered earth, the loud bang of the impact the last sound Steve registered.

-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-H50-

The dot that had represented Steve's helo vanished from the screen, and Chin leaned forwards as if moving closer to the image allow him to see what was no longer there. "What just happened?" he questioned, his voice calm despite the implications of what he had just witnessed.

Kono said nothing as she frantically tapped a few buttons on her computer, her face determined. Kono's frustration at her inability to reconnect the GPS link was apparent in her forceful hand movements, her expression tight. "Come on, damn it...," she exclaimed, her efforts yielding zero results.

Lou moved in to hover over her shoulder, an easy feat for a man his size, his dark eyes darting back and forth from screen to screen. He rarely saw the Hawaiian lose her composure over anything, and he extended his hand to place it compassionately on her shoulder. Softly he offered to help. "Did you try realigning the GPS data link?"

Kono's hands fell uselessly to her sides, her shoulders slumping with defeat. "I...can't regain the signal. They're just gone."

"Gone, as in blown up?" Danny warily asked, worry and disbelief in his voice. This can't be happening. Hell no.

Brad looked apologetically at the 5-0 team as he addressed them, trying to keep their resolve up. There were too many variables. "We don't know anything for sure. Not yet." He turned to his go-to guy. If you wanted it done right, you knew who to ask. "Brick."

"Yeah Fox. What's the word?" Brick replied, ready to jump into action. He was itching to do something about what just went down.

Brad firmly laid out the next course of action. "Enemy Mi-35. Find out who these guys are. Now. And check the perimeter. Something's not sitting well in my gut. This recon mission was compromised the second it left the ground. I want to know the why, how, and who."

"On it," Brick replied, expression hard. No one screwed with them and got away with it. He nodded to the room and turned to leave.

Low wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. This was crazy. They were doomed before they even started. "So what now? We can't just assume they're dead. No way in hell. Steve would never let that happen. Too stubborn."

"Damn right we aren't," Danny stated, arms crossed. "We have to go and find them. Steve would do the same for any of us in a heartbeat." This mission had turned from a one man hunt to a three man in the span of a week.

"I hate to be the bearer of any negative vibes, but their last signal came from not far from the desert of Dashti Margo. Known by the locals as the 'Desert of Death'," Brad carefully told them, his mouth a thin line, his eyes compassionate.

"What the hell does that mean?" Danny threw back incredulously, nerves tight like piano strings.

"It means that whoever or whatever goes in there unprepared is never heard from again, Danny," Hunter replied, sounding like a B horror movie scare tactic. He wasn't going to give up just yet. Besides Steve's well-being, he had a vested interest in his man's safety as well, but he needed to be straight with Steve's team. The reality was Steve and Tac might be dead, and Dashti Margo was aptly names for its carelessness towards the living.

The silence in the room following the statement felt like a vacuum to Danny, so devoid of any substance that no noise would ever be heard again. He could only hear the rapid beating of his heart in his ears, chest feeling as though he'd been punched in the stomach, forcing all the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe. This was the very thing he'd had nightmares over, and like a cruel joke, it was being laid out before him in harsh reality.

He may have just lost his best friend and partner.

* * *

 **TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well I have to apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I didn't intend on it taking so long to get it prepared, but the holidays were busy. Combine that with the January slumps, my muse and interest went to sleep.**

 **I have to thank my beta for the not-so-subtle prodding every time I chatted with her or reviewed her stories, about where the next chapter of mine was. Mahalo, mighty Jedi. :)**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

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The sun beat down on Steve's battered form as he willed himself to move, his hand wrapped protectively around his midsection. As he paused to catch his breath, he slowly looked back toward the helo wreckage, eyes squeezing shut with remorse. His concussed brain continued to assault his memory with snippets of what had been, playing the pieces back like a badly recorded cable TV program.

Tac. A lone tear of guilt-ridden remorse slid past his closed lids, trailing a line down his sooty, sand encrusted cheek. "I am so sorry...," he softly said out loud. This was all his fault. He groaned with pain-filled emotions, legs losing their strength with the onslaught of recent memories. He fell unceremoniously to his knees, hands grasping the sand in desperation.

Joe, his team, Tac... he's failed them all. And now? Now his team would no doubt try to search for him, putting their lives in danger for his sake. Like Tac. Feebly he watched the tiny particles of sand fall through the spaces between his clenched fingers, just like this whole mission has. His side and leg ached, and he sat back on his heels, head tilted back as though looking to the sky for answers. Only silence replied.

He could almost hear Danny again, that supportive, Jersey tone that always knew what to say to urge him on, and lift him up. _'This isn't your fault, Steve,'_ he heard the voice tell him. _'You could never have predicted this would happen. Tac died for a purpose, just as you would have done a hundred times over for him, or any one of us. You have to fight this, babe. This mission isn't over. You have a job to do, Super SEAL. That's to stay alive for me, because I'm coming to get you.'_

Steve lowered his gaze to the sands, wetness lingering on his face, even in the hot, dry environment that was the desert. He heaved a sigh filled with tired determination, a newfound resolve slowly building within his emotionally ravaged psyche.

"You can do this," he told himself sternly. "You trained for things just like this." He would do what he could to stay alive for Tac's sacrifice, and for his team's bravery. Slowly and carefully he stood up, a hiss passing dry lips as his injured body protested.

Steve stared at the smouldering remains of the helo, his heart heavy. He knew deep down there was nothing he could have done to save Tac. In the end he had to save himself from the burning wreckage. Tac had bravely risked his life, knowing the insurmountable odds, so that Steve could have a fighting chance. He was saddened to have the unfortunate outcome of adding another casualty to the list of those who lost their lives under his watch, in service to their country, and to preserve freedom.

His gaze lingered a moment longer on the helo as he brought up a hand in salute to Tac. Turning, he studied the smoke that he'd noticed in the distance, the rising plume that had been steadily filling the air had now dwindled somewhat, but was still visible beyond the next few dunes. Steve estimated the wreckage to be approximately one click away from his current location. He needed to see if anything, or _anyone_ had escaped the damage of the impact. His own survival may depend on it.

-H50-H50-H50-

Brick slipped out the back entrance, rifle slung over his shoulder. His dark brown eyes narrowed as he scanned the immediate area, lips pressed together in suspicion. It was too quiet. Fox was right. His gut told him someone was watching them. He rushed to the nearest dune, moving at a speed that looked damn near impossible for a man of his size. Once on the other side, Brick brought a pair of tactical goggles to his face and he flicked on the thermal setting. The screen before his eyes flared to life with various hues, mostly bright yellow and orange from the hot sand, however it was any visible red ones he was interested in. Heat signatures.

"I know you're here somewhere, you bastards," he mumbled angrily. On the edge of a peak not far from the base, Brick saw two reddish hued blobs near the ridge. "Son of a...," he said incredulously. He brought a hand held radio to his lips. "We've got unwanted visitors, boys," he whispered.

" _Copy, Brick,"_ Brad replied firmly. _"Go pay them a visit. Find out who they are. Take them alive if possible I want answers."_

"With pleasure, Fox," Brick replied, his voice laced with vindication. "Time to welcome these guys to the party."

The radio is As'ad's hand beeped quietly before a voice broke through the static. Perturbed, he adjusted the settings in hopes of clearing up the signal. "Say again. Your last transmission was garbled." His face blanched, a look that was not missed by Afzal, who had been watching intently since the unit sprang to life.

Afzal didn't have time to contemplate the reason for the look, as the radio was shoved into his personal space as if it were a grenade with the pin removed. Through his own confusion, he heard his friend firmly inform him. "Abdul Al-Rashid wishes to talk to you, Afzal." Warily he took the radio from As'ad, his throat dry. If Al-Rashid wanted to speak with him directly, the news couldn't be favourable.

"Yes, Al-Rashid," he began cautiously once he'd found his voice.

" _Our helicopter has crashed, Afzal,"_ Al-Rashid informed him cynically. _"I don't suppose you could update me on how this has come to fruition."_

Afzal swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat upon hearing this news. Surely Al-Rashid did not think that he'd had something to do with this? "I...," he stammered. This was not going to plan at all. He would lose his head for this. Abdul Al-Rashid did not tolerate failure of this magnitude, even though there was no way Afzal could've predicted such an outcome. And he was on his last leg.

Al-Rashid saved him from spouting a scant apology, his emotions unreadable through the monotone voice coming through the transmission.

" _You and As'ad are going to find the wreckages in Dashti Margo. You will return with information on why these people are here, and if they won't talk, eliminate them."_

As'ad's face paled as he listened in on the conversation unfolding before him. Dashti Margo? That place consumed everything living and spewed out nothing but death.

Afzal affixed As'ad with a bleak countenance, eyes filled with uncertainty. "I understand, Al-Rashid. How do we know that both of them crashed?" he added hesitantly.

" _Hamad reported in before he crashed. If you find him alive, dispose of him. If he cannot get the job done right, I will find someone else who can. And rest assured, Afzal, that I will afford you the came courtesy,"_ Al-Rashid promised without compunction.

Afzal swallowed so deeply that he was sure Al-Rashid could hear it on the other end of the line. "It will be done, Al-Rashid," he vowed, his calm tone not matching his nerves. "Praise Allah." He ended the transmission, and dropped his arm uselessly to his side, the radio nearly falling from his limp hand.

"Dashti Margo?" As'ad voiced worriedly, eyes consumed with dread. "We'll never come out of there if anything happens, Afzal! My family..," he trailed off hopelessly.

"This is our opportunity to fulfill our destiny, As'ad. Success here will guarantee us a place seated next to Abdul Al-Rashid, and his ear," Afzal told his friend. His initial fear upon hearing his instructions had been replaced by a penchant for vengeance, and progression through the ranks. One day he would be in charge. He licked his lips. He could almost taste the power.

As'ad's tanned face whitened as he listened to his friend's asinine words. "Afzal, please. This is insane. We'll die," he pleaded futilely. Surprised, As'ad yelped as he was pulled roughly on his shoulders by Afzal, who stared at him, dark eyes seeming to bore into his very soul.

"This is our fate, and we will...," Afzal shoved him against the sand as he yanked him down, keeping their bodies low. "We have been spotted. Grab the gun. We cannot be captured. Quickly," he instructed with haste as he turned to dash down the dune towards their waiting jeep.

Startled, As'ad panicked as he landed roughly against the ground. Wild-eyed, he clumsily groped for the rifle, pointing it in the direction he'd assumed the threat would appear from.

"Come on!" Afzal yelled, just as Brick crested the ridgeline, his HK416 coming up to bear down on them.

"You there! Stop right now and drop your weapon!" Brick commanded in Pashto.

More out of self-preservation than bravery, As'ad responded with a volley from his AK as he scrambled to his feet and ran backwards down the hill, feet struggling for purchase against the shifting sands beneath him, bullets spraying wildly.

Brick nearly face planted into the sand as he dove forwards, the whizzing of the 7.62 rounds zipping past his head in a near miss. Prone, he replied with a few bursts from his rifle, the bullets imbedding themselves into the sand around As'ad's retreating feet. "I said stop right there, jackass!" Brick hollered.

He didn't want to take these two bastards out just yet, as dead men told no tales. He needed to take these two alive so they could yank some information out of them.

As'ad nearly fell as he clumsily backed into the jeep, his rifle's muzzle moving wildly as he fired without aim or control, the recoil taking over. This was not his strong suit, and he was on the verge of panic as he tried to stay alive and not be captured.

Once As'ad had found his way into his seat, Afzal spun the jeep around sluggishly, the tires struggling to gain grip in the deep sand. "Cover us, As'ad, now!" he yelled over the roaring of the engine, urging his friend to continue firing. He heard the click of an empty magazine, his urgency level raised. The jeep finally gained traction, tires kicking up sand as they sped away.

Brick cursed as he scrambled to his feet, stance firm as he peppered the retreating jeep. "Shit," he spat angrily as he watched the vehicle disappear around the bend, the satisfying sound of his rounds that had hit their mark being overshadowed by his target's escape.

-H50-H50-H50-

Steve approached the crash site of the Mi-35 with caution. Sweat dripped down his face, and he tiredly reached an arm up to wipe away the moisture, his arm coming back red with blood. He guessed that his head wound hadn't yet clotted fully, and he'd just reopened it.

His leg ached from the little distance he'd already walked, which did not spell good news for his hike to wherever he was going. He was lost, and this desert didn't look to be too friendly towards long term visitors.

He glanced at his injured side, and he could see the makeshift bandage had a bit of blood starting to seep through. Steve sighed tiredly, the heat and his injuries were rapidly eating away at his reserves. He had to find shelter, and soon, as even his training wouldn't be able to help him survive if he didn't find somewhere to rest.

He looked around, gauging how long he could remain near the crash site. No doubt whoever sent this helo, the people in charge weren't likely happy with the results. They'd be attracted here like a moth to a flame, and he didn't want to be the one to get burned.

Drawing his sidearm, Steve slowly and deliberately approached the smouldering hulk, muzzle pointed at the open door. The likelihood of anyone surviving the crash was slim, yet he couldn't rule anything out. Hell, he survived, didn't he? A pilot with skill could certainly reduce the possibility of death in a crash.

He could feel the lingering heat coming from the helicopter, and he saw a figure slumped over the bulkhead, the smell of death surrounding him. He frowned. One person... this didn't make sense. Where was the pilot? He tensed, eyes shifting as he quickly analyzed the wreckage for signs of an unseen threat. Hobbling, his movements anything but precise, he rounded the rear of the Mi-35, P226 ready to engage.

As the SEAL peered around the mangled tail section, he spotted a pair of boots only a meter or two away from the fuselage. The pilot clearly didn't make it very far. He knew he should be getting as far away from here as possible, but if this guy was still alive and he had answers to Steve's burning questions, he sure as hell wanted to find out.

"Don't move," Steve stated flatly in Pashto, his voice even despite his growing fatigue.

The pilot didn't move, and Steve started to wonder is the man was indeed dead, until the pilot's hand jerked, and flopped onto his thigh.

"I said, don't move," Steve repeated again, his underlying tone making the repercussions of not following his directions quite clear. He moved around to face the pilot, and noticed the man's hand had moved dangerously close to the sidearm on his leg. "Ah- ah. I don't think so," he advised him, 226 now pointed at the man's head, muzzle steady despite his fatigue.

The pilot laughed like a deranged psychopath, lips parting to expose bloodied teeth. A wet cough ensued, crimson spewing onto his flight suit.

"You want to enlighten me as to what's so funny?" Steve deadpanned.

"You. You're dead," the pilot taunted in English as he continued to grin like a feral cat that had just devoured a live canary. Steve studied the blood soaked clothing around the man's abdomen.

"Why don't you tell me who you are, and how you found us. Huh? If you do that, I might feel charitable and help you with that wound," the SEAL advised.

"My brothers will gun you and your American friends down, infidel. Our lands will be cleaned of your filth," he replied with insolence, ignoring Steve's demands.

Steve replied with a shrug of indifference. "Suit yourself. Guess you get to play Russian roulette with your life. What will kill you first? The desert or your injury." He noted the sudden shift in the pilot's demeanor, his trained eye advising him that the change he just witnessed was not one of agreement. "Don't...," he warned, fingers tensing up on his SIG.

The pilot ignored the warning, expression predatory as he clumsily tried to acquire a grip on his sidearm. "Allah is great," he decreed, his finger trying to find its way to the trigger.

He had no chance to fire as Steve replied to the proclamation with a single round from his SIG, the crack loud against the calm stillness of the pilot's head jerked with the shot, blood freely flowing from the wound. The silence returned and the SEAL sighed, arm falling to his side as he swayed on his feet. He had been left no choice.

He blinked away the darkness encroaching on his vision, and stuffed his pistol back into its holster. _'Get a grip,'_ he commanded himself, as he bent over and planted his hands on his knees in attempt to steady his breathing and not pass out.

After a moment he rose back to his full height. Time to get the hell away from here. He grabbed the dead pilot's gun and stuffed it into his waistband with a pained sigh. With nothing else of value remaining, he slowly trudged off in search of shelter and a place to rest and redress his wounds.

-H50-H50-H50-

Brick burst into the room like a battering ram breaching a door during a raid. "Damn terrorist bastards!" he declared hotly, his grip on his rifle so tense his knuckles were white. Startled by the aggressive entrance, everyone turned quickly around, and Brick found himself staring at a room of concerned faces.

"Sit rep, Brick," Hunter commanded roughly, knowing that his man would stow whatever else he was about to say once he'd heard the requested order.

Brick quickly collected himself, broad shoulders squaring as he faced his commanding officer. He wore a deep frown, eyes dark pools of anger. "I spotted two individuals on the ridgeline and moved in as you requested, sir. Once I had been made, the two bastards took off and one decided to open fire."

Brad kept his features well-schooled as he listened to his right hand man's report. He was afraid of this. "Go on," he stated.

"I returned fire as best I could while avoiding their shots." Brick crossed his beefy arms, rifle hanging lazily by the sling over his shoulder. "I didn't hit either of them, but I managed to sink a few into their jeep. Unclear if I caught their fuel tank."

Danny listened to the exchange with concern, his fear for Steve's safety ratcheting up to the Williams version of DEFCON 2. This just went from really bad to really worse. Not only were Steve and Tac likely shot down, if they survived the crash they're now out in some God awful desert with terrorists more than likely looking for them. He chanted his own private mantra. _Please, please be ok, Steve._

Brad looked at the room full of people all waiting for him to make the next move. The next command on what to do to get their friends back. He could see the fear, the intent, and the determination in each one of the faces of the Five-0 team, and Brick looked like a bull ready to bust into a room full of red cape swinging matadors. Open the doors and show him the cloth, and he'd be unstoppable.

"Ok, so now we know how they knew our bird was in the air. Clearly we've been under surveillance. For how long is the question," Fox summarized.

Chin took a step towards Brad, hands open with apology. "Sorry about this Brad," he offered. "I feel like we inadvertently drew attention to your compound with our visit..."

Brad stopped him with a dismissive wave of his hand. This wasn't all their fault. "Hardly, Chin. I have no doubt that we were under careful scrutiny for some time now. The blame isn't solely yours to carry, and it's not important now. We have larger issues at hand, and we need to address them soon."

Chin nodded a silent word of thanks, some of his body tension abating. The rest of it was still rooted deeply in the fate of Steve and Tac.

Brick, true to his name was like a firm base of a tall structure. Unwavering, he stared intently at Fox. "What's the good word, sir?"

"I want surveillance and the patrols beefed up from now on. No exceptions. If they have the stones to come back, or if they as much as sneeze in our direction, I want to know about it," Brad instructed. Things had gone to hell in a handbasket quickly, and he needed to stop the bleeding before anything else got out of control.

"What about Steve and Tac?" Danny questioned, unable to keep himself quiet on the subject any longer. This was tearing him apart inside, and he was desperate to do something. Anything. The inquiry was the elephant in the room that no one wanted to address for fear that their acceptance of the situation would be the only way it could become reality.

"We didn't get this far by leaving a man behind," Brad encouraged Danny, and he saw a glimmer of hope spark in the blonde's fear-tainted eyes. "Brick, you take Chin and Danny as Echo Team. I'll take Kono and Lou with me under Vulture Team."

Brick, fueled by the new sense of direction, had graced the room with the toothy, broad smile on his face that they saw the first time they had met him. His body language was that of a thoroughbred at the gate. Ready to bust out and do what he was born to do.

"Grab your gear and get ready to saddle up at zero hundred. That's nearly 5 hours from now. Grab some shuteye if you can. You'll need it," Brad told the group, and the watched with pride as they filed out of the room, faces determined.

Left alone, Brad stared at the now empty room, his emotions in turmoil. "Hang on boys," he commanded softly to the missing men. "We're coming."

* * *

 **TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm back with another chapter, so I hope everyone enjoys. This wouldn't be here without my wonderful beta, who happily sets some of her time aside to comb through it. :) Mahalo, my friend.**

 **Disclaimer is as usual. I do this just for fun.**

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The sun was waning on the horizon, and the heat of the day would soon give way to the dark, cool night. Steve panted, his face drenched with sweat, shirt clinging to his wet, bloody torso. Despite his overall dire situation, he welcomed the temperature shift with open arms as the air passed over his skin. A small relief amongst the hardships he's endured up to this point.

His head throbbed, feeling like a nail beneath the steady pounding of a hammer. He was sure he had a mild concussion from the impact, and he had no idea how bad the gash on his head might be. It had stopped trickling blood a while ago, so he'd pushed the need for tending to it towards the backburner in favour of his more pressing injuries. He had no doubt that part of his headache stemmed from the unbearable heat and lack of water.

Steve paused, eyes closed as he took a deep, trembling breath in an attempt to relax his traumatized body. The wound in his side protested the movement, and he felt like someone had gripped his insides in a vise. The intensity of the pain startled him and he weakly dropped to his knees, eyes closed tighter as he rode out the pulsating wave, his mangled leg objecting to the abrupt, harsh motion.

"God damn it," he ground out through clenched teeth, eyes watering involuntarily, an errant tear squeezing past his closed lids and running down his sun baked cheek. He felt like crap, and it took all of his training and whatever reserves he had left to gather himself together. He managed to get in a few deliberate, deep breaths amongst the shallow, pain filled ones, and the pain dropped to a more manageable level.

He raised his head, and peeled his eyes open and looked towards the object that had been the center of his fixation since his long walk from the terrorist helo began. A click ahead was a rocky formation, its silhouette dark and imposing against the setting sun that had fallen behind its breadth. He needed to get there. He HAD to get there, or he doubted he'd make it through another day, let alone the night. In top shape, he could last nearly three days without water. But he was far from being in top shape. He cut his losses at two days, and that might be generous. Even his training in survival tactics would only get him so far.

' _Well what are you waiting for, SuperSEAL? Get a move on,'_ Danny's voice inside his head urged him.

Steve swatted at the air as if shooing away someone who wouldn't let him sleep. A move in fact that his animated friend would surely use during a conversation.

"Go 'way, D'nny. I need to rest some more," he slurred out.

' _You don't have time for that, babe. I'm coming for you, so you need to hold on. Get a move on, soldier.'_

"It's sai'lr, D'nny," Steve replied tiredly. He looked around, and to his confusion he didn't see his partner anywhere. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. Great. He was starting to hallucinate. Struggling to his feet, he sluggishly headed towards the dark rock, injured left leg dragging a line in the sand.

-H50-H50-H50-

Worn tires kicked up dirt as the jeep tore across the Afghan terrain. Afzal's expression was neutral as he wrestled with the steering wheel, the deep pockets of sand grabbing the front suspension harshly. As'ad was quiet in the passenger seat- he had been since Al-Rashid had ordered them to go recon the helicopter wreckage in the infamous Dashti Margo.

Afzal didn't blame his friend. He didn't have the family to consider. As'ad did. However, family or not, he would make sure that As'ad understood what needed to be done. That is what their job was. It was a task that Allah had seen fit for them to undertake.

At first he was angry and apprehensive when he'd been told to enter the death desert. He didn't have a choice in the end, as saying no to Al-Rashid would incur the same outcome as Dashti Margo would should she hold you in her grasp. Death would be the only exit.

Luckily that American firing at them earlier didn't damage their fuel tank. He'd been concerned that they would not make their safe house hidden inside the town of Lashkar Gah. It had been at the forefront of his mind when they'd escaped the American's compound area. He was sure they would run out of gas and be apprehended.

He smiled to himself as they rolled into town, under the cover of the night's darkness, heading towards their supply house. He'd chosen to look at this new development as an opportunity. An opportunity to move up the ladder of power. _He_ was the one who spotted the Americans. _He_ was the one to suggest further inspection. And _he_ would be the one to go to Dashti Margo, capture any American survivors, and live to tell about it, reaping the rewards of that endeavor.

Long he'd dreamed of this occasion, and now the rungs in his ladder to the top have revealed themselves. He would be propelled into the spot second only to Abdul Al-Rashid himself. No other person will have his high esteem. He licked his lips in greed. All he'd need to do after that was take the final step.

As'ad stared at his friend. He watched the myriad of emotions cross Afzal's face. He knew what the man was thinking. While he shared the desire for carrying out the will of Allah, and serving Abdul Al-Rashid, he had no true desire to martyr himself. He was not stupid, and waltzing into Dashti Margo on some hell bent mission to rise to the top of the food chain was not high on his to-do list.

The bottom line was that he really had no choice in the matter. He would do what was asked in hopes that Allah would bestow grace upon him and his family, should he live through this. While his bravery was not strong, his faith was.

"Take heart, As'ad," he heard Afzal say to him, as though sensing his thoughts. "We will succeed. Allah will see to it. Our faith and will are stronger than anything these infidels could bring to the table. That alone will grant us success."

As'ad nodded carefully as he watched the sun disappear from view, the darkness feeling like a veil of morbidity that had been tossed upon them, adding to the dread surrounding their destination.

-H50-H50-H50-

The cooler evening air felt glorious as it caressed Steve's sweat laden, sun burned skin. He closed in eyes briefly in silent appreciation, well aware of the lingering fact that cooling down too fast could be just as bad for his health, given the circumstances. It felt too good to ignore, and he allowed himself the rare moment of pleasure, small that it was.

Steve approached the dark rock face, the thought of having any sort of sheltered place to rest making him almost dizzy with relief. He needed to address his injuries, and figure out what his next move would be. The moon provided just enough light to see where he was going, and he fell heavily against the reddish stone, the surface warm from the hours spent absorbing the sun.

Steve drew his SIG and switched on the rail mounted light, shining it at the entrance to a small cave. It was not deep, but it didn't need to be. His main concern was any wildlife that may call this place home. No human dares inhabit this area- he was sure of that. The likelihood of an ambush awaiting him would be minute.

He listened for any signs of life, and not hearing any, he performed one last sweep with his light. Empty. Carefully he made his way into the waiting arms of his temporary home, crouching a little to get his tall frame inside. He sucked in a breath, the movement angering his injured side. He compartmentalized the pain, his only goal at this moment to find a place to sit and rest.

He shrugged his pack off his shoulder, and stumbled down into a haphazard seated position on the ground with a thump. His leg flared with a renewed pain, attempting to trump his relief at finally having a cool place to sit. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, in hopes that the surge of agony would subside.

Once the pain level had become manageable, he surveyed his makeshift splint for movement or damage. To his relief he found none. The broken bone may have cut some muscle of tendon- he knew the potential risks of internal breaks, and the possibility things could shift if left uncared for. He wiped his brow, the heat from the sudden pain having overwhelmed the cool air around him.

Steve leaned his back against the wall, a sigh escaping his lips. He was so tired. He could feel his lids drooping as if they were attached to lead weights. Mentally he slapped himself. Stay awake. He needed to tend to his wound first. There was little he could do for his leg, so focused on his midsection- the current source of most of his pain.

Gingerly he unraveled the VetWrap, crumbled it up and tossed it aside. Jaw clenched in anticipation of the pain to come, the SEAL slowly peeled back the bandage, attempting to keep any tearing to a minimum to keep any coagulation intact. The skin around the gash was an angry red, and he could feel the heat emanating from the wound. Steve leaned his head against the wall, sweat dripping down his brow. He was losing precious moisture through perspiration, and consequently lowering the length of time he could go on little to no water.

Steve could hear Danny's voice prodding him, as if the blond was actually there. ' _I know you can be one stubborn SOB, so hold on. I know you've got it in you.'_ The corner of his mouth turned up with a small smile. He could do this.

He opened up the backpack, and retrieved another small gauze pack for the dressing, and a small antibiotic packet. While not ideal, it was all he had to work with, and something was better than nothing. He praised his inner boy scout, as Danny sometimes liked to call it. As he dabbed gingerly at the wound with the antibiotic pad, his wound flared in anger at the cleaning treatment.

The heat radiating from the injury clearly told him it was infected. He concluded that he'd not retrieved all of the shrapnel pieces, which only served to inflame the wound more. He hoped that whatever was still in there wasn't a threat for deeper issues. Bleeding internally would certainly ensure his death long before the heat and dehydration got to him. Applying the bandage, Steve rewrapped his midsection, body and mind spent from the effort.

Clumsily he grabbed the water bottle and took baby sips, relishing the moisture that trailed a line down his parched throat, and caressed his burned lips. He returned the water to his pack, and picked up his P226. He rested the gun on his leg, the metal feeling cool through the fabric. Reassured, Steve allowed his eyes to slip closed as sleep beckoned him to answer its call. He drifted off, thoughts of the mission, Tac, and Danny at the forefront of his waning consciousness.

-H50-H50-H50-

Danny glanced up at the star-filled sky, the moon blanking out nearby celestial bodies with a blinding light. Under the cover of night, their jeep sped along the dusty terrain headed west, towards Dashti Margo. His heart felt like it had a hole that kept getting larger ever since the terrible turn of events. His concern for his brother's safety, and that of Tac's grew with each tick of the second hand on his watch. He glanced over at Brick. The man was unreadable. Had been since they'd left the compound, and he'd driven the journey thus far in silence.

Chin, seated behind him, stared at the back of Danny's head. He could feel the tension. See it in the blonde's rigid body posture. "Don't worry, Danny. We'll find them," he offered.

Danny glanced back at Chin, a small smile of thanks gracing his lips, although it never quite reached his eyes. "I know, Chin," he quietly replied. "But in what state...?" He trailed off, voice laced with desperation, gaze fixated on the dim beams projecting from their headlights that were playing across the rear of Hunter's jeep leading the charge in front.

Brick's jaw tightened, his jovial, devil-may-care smile from when they first met him completely absent. He looked different, as he'd lost the Afghan dress in favour of more tactical attire, although the large beard remained. He looked more like the soldier that he was. "We'll find them," he voiced gruffly, echoing Chin's earlier statement.

Danny nodded, yet his confidence level remained unchanged. He appreciated what they were trying to do, but despite their vocalized assurances, he got the definite impression they were just as worried as he was.

They passed a dusty old sign that indicated they would be entering Lashkar Gah, the last known location of Joe White, and the town whose one backroad led right down the middle of Dashti Margo. Brad slowed his vehicle down as they neared the town, the native people who were still awake and littering the streets scattering into their homes like a cupboard full of cockroaches suddenly exposed to the light.

"Stay alert, ladies and gentlemen," Hunter instructed into his mike.

" _Copy that, Fox,"_ Brick's voice replied over the line.

Lou tightened his grip on his rifle, eyes scanning their surroundings for anything that seemed suspicious. He thanked his SWAT training for keeping his nerves under control, otherwise he'd have lost it long ago. He guessed that the majority of the people here just wanted to be left alone, without being harassed by the local regime. He imagined that even their own presence now was an unwanted sight. A sharp, unexpected turn by Brad had Lou hanging onto the door sill to keep steady. "What's up, Captain?" he questioned quickly, heart rate rising with the adrenaline surge.

"Pit stop," Hunter replied as he led the team down a narrow alley into a secluded backlot. He stopped, switching off the jeep before climbing out.

"I hate to be the one to complain, even though I'm sure you expected it," Danny said, left hand wafting the air as he prefaced his question with a disclaimer. "But what the hell are we doing? We need to get to our guys."

Hunter raised both hands in silent interruption. He was now well familiar with how fiery the smaller man could be. "Easy, Danny. I want to find them as much as you do. Remember we have Joe White's disappearance to consider, and given the potential players revealed so far, I have some new doors to kick in for some intel."

Danny's shoulders slumped slightly, his stance less challenging. He was frustrated. He looked to his teammates for support, and when he saw only acceptance of the situation in their eyes, he sighed. "Alright, I apologize. I'm just on edge here, so please let's just get going."

Brad nodded in understanding. Danny was close to Steve, that much was obvious. He knew all too well himself what it was like to have a friend in need. No offence was taken. "Brick, you stay here and remain on watch. I'm going to have a chat with our guy."

"Copy that, Fox. I'm on it," Brick confirmed, and he moved to the side of the door's entrance, his back to the wall, weapon at the ready.

"Follow me, guys," Brad instructed to the team with a beckoning wave of his hand, the team exchanging glances before following Hunter inside.

The room was sparsely furnished, as were most of the dwellings in this part of Lashkar Gah. Moonlight spilled through the windows, casting odd shadows inside. The back room was dimly lit, the flickering of a small candle – the only indication someone was present, and still awake. A man of minute stature appeared in the room's doorway, a silhouette against the backlight. "What do you want?" the figure said in Pashto, all pretense ignored.

"It's Fox, Samir," Hunter replied in English, and the figure visibly relaxed before emerging into the moonlit room.

An older man, Samir's face and head were covered in wiry grey hair. His icy blue eyes were wise, but visibly tired from his years. Those eyes had seen many things. Some good, some terrible. Each time Samir offered information to Brad, the man was one step closer to potentially revealing his hand in assisting the Americans. At this point in life he was beyond caring about his own well-being. With no family, his people were all that mattered, and he wanted nothing more than peace, balance and stability for his country, and those that lived in it. If that want meant helping these people, he would do so time and again.

Samir beckoned them into the back room, and they followed him, the 5-0 team apprehensive about this visit, but hopeful this man could somehow aid in their search.

Brad got right to the point. "Samir, I need any scuttlebutt about a missing American who passed through here roughly over a week ago. Did he see you, and, if so, I need to know what kind of questions he was asking. We also have two of our own whose helicopter was downed by insurgents."

Danny anxiously bit his lip in worried anticipation of the reply, his hopes of finding Steve growing slightly. He hoped this man would have something they could go on. For Joe, Steve, and Tac's sake.

"The American you speak of, he was here inquiring about someone. A friend," Samir began. "I directed him west from here towards Zaranj. A short time later some men were in town, interrogating everyone and checking homes. Clearly they were looking for him. Unfortunately that is all I know."

Samir sat down and leaned back in his chair, his icy blue eyes penetrating each individual in the room as though he could see right through them, deep into their very souls. Danny almost felt the need to recoil physically under the intense gaze. Kono shifted beside him, the air displacing slightly with her movement.

"If Abdul Al-Rashid is involved in this mess surrounding your people, you best hurry and recover them. That cell is particularly ruthless and even their daily searches here amongst their own countrymen are not forgiving," Samir warned, finger jabbing the air roughly with anger.

Brad placed a friendly hand on Samir's shoulder. "Thanks for your help, Samir. Although I wish there was more to go on," he stated hopefully.

Samir sighed, truly wishing he could be of more help when his brow furrowed. "Wait," he started, pausing as his mind flashed a recent memory. An oddity in the usual chaos. He closed his eyes as though replaying the event on the back of his closed lids. He opened his piercing blues. "There was a jeep that passed by here earlier. I thought it odd to see at such hours, as no one in this area usually travels by vehicle- especially at night. Although I didn't see the occupants, my neighbours were spooked. That is enough."

"Yes. Odd indeed," Brad replied, glancing at the group around him. He turned to Samir once more. "Thanks again, my friend. Remember, we are here if you need us." He gestured to the door. "Let's go guys. We've got men to rescue."

Outside, Brick turned in anticipation when he heard the team return. "Anything?"

"More than we had when we arrived," Fox replied with a little enthusiasm. "Not GPS co-ordinates by any means, but now we at least have something to go on. A vehicle with two men passed through here, heading west. Samir says the locals were spooked."

"I'll bet those are my guys," Brick growled angrily. He was itching to get his hands on those two. His eyes grew dark at the memory of their escape. That those bastards were watching them all this time...

"I'd be surprised if they weren't," Brad stated flatly, interrupting Brick's dark thoughts. "Joe did pass through here. There's talk that Al-Rashid has his dirty fingers in the pie, and he's in it up to his eyeballs."

"Well shit," Brick ground out. "Things just got a whole lot more complicated, and a whole lot more dangerous."

Danny listened warily to the conversation. Clearly these two knew more about what was going on than they did. His inner skeptic began to question the validity of Samir's intelligence. "Wait, how do we know this guy isn't on the radio right now to this Al-Rashid guy, telling everyone where we are?"

"I'm with Danny on this one," Lou piped in. He had difficulty trusting guys who were informants. Call it past lessons learned. One never knew if they were playing both side of the fence.

Brick surprised them when it was he who answered, his expression serious. "Samir is trustworthy. I know firsthand." His tone was firm, as though challenging either of them to dispute his claim.

"A story for another time," Brad interjected, piquing the team's interest.

"Ok, ok. I get it," Danny replied, hands raised in a placating gesture. Brick suddenly seemed slightly uncomfortable, which was uncharacteristic, so the blond decided to change the topic. "I take it this Al-Rashid guy is the local dirt bag?"

"And then some," Fox replied, eyes dark. "The fact that he's involved worries me. Consider him the next best thing to the terrorist world since Bin Laden. It's imperative we get things done in a timely manner, and we need to take this very seriously. The road from here on just became a hell of a lot more risky. For us, and for our missing people. This should not be taken lightly."

Danny sighed. When Steve did things and they ended up sour, he certainly knew how to take it over the top. Now he wasn't just worried for his friend. He was terrified for him.

"So what do we do now?" Chin asked carefully, his tone even, still managing to sound relaxed given the news. The man definitely knew how to keep his emotions close to the vest.

"We follow our lead west, through the only 'road' through Lashkar Gah, and track our new terrorist buddies. Cleary they know something we don't, and we can use that," Brad ordered, taking charge. "Let's go get our men back."

* * *

 **TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed and followed this story. It gives me the encouragement I need to keep writing it.**

 **As usual I can't thank my beta 'PP' (my writing Obi-Wan) enough for her help and support she's given me. All while collaborating and writing her own stuff. Mahalo, my friend. We share the Steve whump bug. Is that a bug? :) If so I hope there's no cure.**

 **Hope everyone enjoys.**

 **Disclaimer: I make no money from this. All in fun.**

* * *

Steve was startled awake, jolted back to consciousness thanks to a bad dream. He looked around in a daze, disoriented. Slowly his mind was fed the details of his predicament, his initial confusion dissipating slightly like a slow morning fog that burns away in the sun. His brain felt like mush, unable to string together much of a coherent thought, a sign of his lack of water intake. His condition would continue to deteriorate the longer he went without, his body's ability to fight slowly eroding away with each passing hour like a sculptor chipping away at a slab of rock. He had no intention of dying out here, but even his survival training would only take him so far. Eventually his body would succumb to his injuries, and he would be powerless to stop it.

Danny. He knew deep down his partner would be looking for him, and he had every intention of staying alive for that moment when he would be found. Reaching down to pick up his bottle, Steve took baby sips of his water, resisting the urge to down the remainder. _Conserve_ , he reminded himself. Closing his eyes, he rested the back of his head against the cold rock, and drew in as deep a breath as the abdominal wound in his side would allow. The cool air around him brought relief to his sun burned skin, and soothed his dry, sand-layered lungs. He was not perspiring near as much as before, and sadly he knew it was not all due to the cooler environment. While that helped, he knew the reality was that he was in the early stages of dehydration, which explained his dry, low sweat skin.

Steve had no idea how long he'd been out, and he knew he needed to get moving while under the cooler blanket of the night. He sighed tiredly. He had little energy to compel himself to move, let alone think about his journey ahead. _Maybe just a little more time_ , he told himself, eyes feeling heavy once more. His arm wrapped protectively against his side as he once more lost the battle to unconsciousness, head slumping against his shoulder, dwindling thoughts lingering on his partner.

 **-H50-**

After having left Lashkar Gah behind, Afzal piloted their jeep down the only road that traversed central Dashti Margo. There were two other roads leaving Lashkar Gah that split to the south and north, their paths running the outskirts of the desert, coming to a head once more in Zaranj. A few towns were sporadically laid out along these two alternate routes around the desert. These settlements were generally smaller than most, and Afzal knew of a safe house or two that Al-Rashid had hidden amongst them. Hiding in plain sight.

While the central road wasn't the most desirable of roads to take, it was the only one that led right through the heart of the desert. In order for them to get to the crash site by vehicle, they had to take this road. There were no other options- unless they wanted to spend extra time. Time that Al-Rashid would never allow them to take. Afzal had the rough location of their helicopter's crash site, so they would be as close as possible to take their trek northward once they reached their longitudinal co-ordinates.

Deep down, Afzal was unsure about their chances for survival, but this course of action was a necessity to get what he wanted. They had brought some supplies, along with their rifles and a radio. They were only to report in if they had important information to relay, and Al-Rashid had made it clear he wouldn't accept anything less than success. Night would soon be overtaken by the heat of the day, and they intended to get as much travel in as possible while the air was not filled with the scorching heat. If Allah graced their journey, they hoped to reach the site with little hurdles.

Afzal slowed the jeep, and pulled off to the side, brakes whining as they came to a stop. "This is the right spot, As'ad," he stated, glancing at his friend.

As'ad sighed in resignation, the moonlight playing off his worried expression. "I am afraid, Afzal. This is the devil in true form. If we anger it, my family will be without their father."

"Allah will guide us. Have faith, my friend," Afzal assured him, dark eyes glistening in the moonlight. "We need to get moving. I've no doubt the Americans will be out looking for their men." He grinned sadistically. "We will get to them first, and their rescue team will be too late to save their men from our justice."

As'ad found himself smiling, Afzal's mood was growing contagious like an airborne virus, easily transmitted by proximity. These people got him into this and he would look forward to making them pay for it. He would be in everyone's good graces. Surprisingly, the thought pleased him.

"Good. That is the spirit," Afzal praised, hopeful that his friend was finally on board with this. He'd had concerns surrounding As'ad's loyalty to this mission, as the man had been vocally against this ever since it began with his own original find.

Afzal looked north towards their destination. His road to power lay before him, and it was time. He planned to do whatever was necessary. Touching As'ad on the shoulder, he looked the other man in the eye. "Our future lies before us, my friend," he announced, right hand moving from his friend's arm to reach up and stroke his beard. "Let's go."

Taking one last look at the road they'd come in on, Afzal put the jeep into gear, and cranking the wheel sharply to the right, he pressed hard on the accelerator. The tires' treads threw sand behind their vehicle, the particles flying in the air like a mini sandstorm. The suspension groaned with the effort, and Afzal gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white with pressure in attempt to keep it from bucking in his hands.

He managed to keep it under control, and the jeep tore through the sand leaving the central road behind, the retreating red glow of their taillights the last thing visible before they disappeared into the night.

They'd been driving for what felt like forever, and most of their journey consisted of silence. As'ad, his conviction wavering each time his unsure mind would come up with a scenario he didn't feel comfortable with, had occasionally pleaded with Afzal, citing the fact that it wasn't too late to turn back, and forget this suicidal task.

Afzal had proceeded to dismiss As'ad's worry-filled words, replying that there would be only success under Allah's watchful gaze, and his earlier concerns over his friend's determination had once more taken place in the forefront of his mind.

As'ad remained silent after that, despite feeling the need to tell Afzal that his lust for power may be affecting his rationale. Deep down, he really didn't want to do this. Sure he was no innocent, but necessity had dictated that he join Al-Rashid. Afzal had already been part of the movement, and having been befriended by the man for reasons that he'd rather forget, he'd ended up under their umbrella of terror.

When he'd first met Afzal, the man wasn't so fanatical. They did what they needed to do to keep the infidels out of their lands, spread the will of Allah, and keep the people in order. The years of influence and exposure to the power that surrounded them while working for Abdul Al-Rashid had slowly consumed his friend.

Now, As'ad was in too deep to get out, and it felt like Afzal had unknowingly dragged him into a pit of quick sand, and he was sinking deeper and deeper. He knew for sure now that Afzal had meant to see this through till the end. There was no telling now what his friend was capable of, and that thought alone scared him to no end. Far, far worse than Dashti Margo ever could.

Afzal had been occasionally glancing in As'ad's direction when the man had grown unusually silent, and he could tell that he wasn't happy with him, if the lack of communication was any indication. While he appreciated his friend's opinion, he felt that the man never really was totally invested in their mission. He hoped that he could show him the way, and that Allah could forgive his friend's 'confusion'.

Afzal narrowed his eyes as he spotted the end of a rotor just ahead, and he slowed the jeep to a stop. He double checked the co-ordinates of where their Mi-35 wreckage should be. He frowned. The hulk up ahead must be the American helicopter.

"Time to prove that we are worthy, As'ad," he stated, the corners of his mouth upturned in a smile filled with greed.

The words were like a dagger to As'ad's stomach, as he'd hoped somehow this would all magically go away. He sighed, knowing he had little choice. He felt the jeep move once more, Afzal having put it back into gear, and he watched the hulk of the chopper grow larger in his view as they approached.

Afzal slowed the jeep to a stop, and switched it off, the engine's rumble dying. Only silence surrounded them now. He climbed out, and carefully made his way towards the crash site, his AK-47's muzzle pointed cautiously at the remains, should they be ambushed.

"I don't like this, Afzal," As'ad muttered as he came up beside the other man, his own rifle trained on the helo, his unsteady movements displaying his nervousness.

"Shhhhhh," Afzal quieted him. "Keep your voice down."

As'ad shot Afzal a glare and did as he was told, not bothering to point out the obvious fact that they rolled up in a loud jeep. He was sure that if anyone was still here, they already knew of their arrival.

They rounded Steve and Tac's helo, and were met with silence. A gentle breeze swirled around them, kicking up dust, and assaulting their noses with the faint smell of burned electrical components, charred metal and flesh. The air around them was filled with the aura of death and destruction.

Afzal lowered his gun, nose wrinkling. "There's no one alive here, As'ad," he stated, his words filled with indifference.

As'ad's innards relaxed when he heard the statement. Perhaps once they checked for Hamad at the Mi-35 wreckage, they could leave this place. The thought raised his spirits, until he noticed what looked like blood in the sand nearby, leading away from the crash site. His stomach dropped like an elevator free falling from the top floor to the bottom.

"Afzal!" He called, hand raised as he gestured to the red-tainted sand, his voice unsteady. "I think one of them got away."

Afzal's body shifted from relaxed to alert. He raised his rifle as though expecting some type of ambush as he moved to where As'ad had indicated. He noticed the sand appeared to have been shifted by the body weight of a sitting or kneeling person. The fact that the sand had not been smoothed by the wind suggested to him that the indentation was probably made recently. He praised the find.

"Good work, my friend." He patted As'ad's shoulder as his gaze followed the intermittent lines in the sand that led away from the place Steve had tended to his injuries. "Looks like we have a partial trial to follow. Let's find Hamad, and then pay the wounded American a visit. He can't have gotten far bleeding like that."

As'ad watched the dark smile from before return to Afzal's face. The look only added to his nervousness, and he prayed he would be granted the strength to see this through so he could go home to his family. He'd hoped that by pointing out the blood that his friend would believe the man to be dead and they could move on. No such luck.

Afzal's voice was sharp, almost demanding. "Let's go."

 **-H50-**

Danny quietly regarded Brick as they drove out of Lashkar Gah, heading across the shortcut road through the center of the desert. In some ways Brick's silence since leaving the old man's home back in town reminded him of Steve. He could see the emotions churning like a tremulous storm just beneath the surface, kept at bay by the ability to school his features. The man's jaw was taught like a bowstring.

Against his better judgement he decided to pry.

"I'm guessing you don't want to share what you're brooding over?" Danny voiced, his blue eyes searching Brick's face for answers.

"You guessed correctly Detective Williams," Brick firmly replied, the use of Danny's title clearly leaving no room for discussion.

Nonplussed at the use of the term 'Detective', Danny slowly nodded at the familiar shutout. He didn't know Brick all that well, and in the end it wasn't his place to pry. Had it been Steve he'd have kept on him to open up. But this wasn't his partner. In the short time he's known Brick, it seemed unusual for the man to be so shaken. It had piqued his curiosity, but he wisely chose to leave well enough alone.

Brick glanced quickly over at Danny as though expecting to be prodded further, but he was met with thoughtful silence. He was thankful that Danny didn't continue to press the issue, as it had been quite a while since he'd been reminded of that day, and he wasn't prepared for the onslaught of memories. He knew that the blond was only curious, but he was not inclined to share. Not right now.

The awkward pause that followed prompted Chin to pipe up, changing the subject.

"So this road takes us right into the desert?"

Brick appeared grateful for the shift in topic. "Sure does. This leads right to Zaranj. Most don't usually take this shortcut- too dangerous. Unless of course one has something to hide. Like our terrorist friends," he added with a scowl, still angry that they had managed to escape.

"Do we have any idea on where to start looking for Steve and Tac's helicopter?" Chin inquired, concern etched in his usually placid features.

"Not exactly, Chin," Brick replied with a hint of frustration. "I'm leaving the details up to Fox on that. I'd say that if our two dirt bags have the head start that Samir thought, then we just need to stay hot on their heels."

"And what if they get to Tac and Steve before we do?" Danny voiced angrily, hand darting towards the open desert around them.

"I don't like it any more than you do, Danny. We have no choice. We've got the co-ordinates from their last signal. Nothing more," Brick stated, his earlier funk replaced by anger towards the guys responsible for this mess.

Danny ran a hand through his wind-swept hair and sighed. This felt like looking for a needle in a haystack, and the longer this went on, the more he left like he might never get to see Steve again.

Fox led the team's small convoy of two down the center of Dashti Margo's only road with apprehension. He knew he was taking a gamble attempting to follow the two men that had been spying on his compound. But without any concrete intel to go by, other than the general area they'd lost contact, he had to roll the dice and hope it came up boxcars. Samir was a good man, and he had nothing to gain by lying.

He looked to Kono, who hadn't said much since they'd left base. "You ok Kono?" He questioned lightly, gaze soft in contrast to his battle hardened, wise features.

Kono sighed, deflating like a balloon with a leak. "I feel like if I hadn't lost their signal, we'd have rescued them by now. There must have been something else that I missed that I could have done."

"Don't beat yourself up, girl," Lou interjected, a wan smile passing his lips. "I've no doubt you did all that you could. In fact with your bad ass skills you could probably program that computer to make you dinner and do your laundry. All while you relaxed with a cool cup of shave ice.'

Kono smiled at Grover's attempt to boost her spirits. "I know. I hate the fact that Tac and bossman are out here alone; maybe seriously injured."

"When Tac and Steve severed their GPS link, we had no eyes anymore," Brad reassured her, stating nothing more than the hard truth. "There wasn't anything you or anyone else could have done different. You shouldn't be beating yourself up over it, Kono. All that matters now is to find our boys and bring them home. That includes Joe White."

The vehicle's occupants were silent as each of them considered the difficult trek ahead of them, their hopes and fears all mixing into a giant ball of emotions that needed to be kept in check, so their minds were on task.

As the jeep's headlights flashed across some marks up ahead, Brad's blue eyes narrowed as he spotted what looked like a pair of tire marks leading off of the road. He slowed the jeep to get a better look, and keyed his mike. "Well, well. What do we have here? Hold up here, Brick." He pulled over and rolled to a stop.

Brick followed suit as he came to a stop just behind Fox's jeep. "Got something sir?" He questioned as he grabbed his HK416 and moved to stand next to his commanding officer. His body was relaxed but alert, finger hovering just outside the trigger guard.

"Stay here," Fox instructed the rest of the team and he and Brick rounded the front of the vehicles. He switched on a flashlight that he'd retrieved from his cargo pants and waved it, the beam passing over the sand. "I love it when guys get careless," Fox announced as he pointed at the tire indents, the deep troughs leading to the north as they left the roadway.

Brick looked to where Brad had indicated, a smirk appearing on his face as his mouth upturned. "Roger that. I knew these two yahoos would screw up sooner or later." He thought they were fortunate not to have had any major sand storms or high winds blanketing the area. The trace evidence could have easily been lost.

At any other time one wouldn't bat an eye at anything that happened on this road. But this wasn't any other time, and their group wasn't here for a sightseeing tour. Fox and Brick climbed back into the waiting jeeps, the Five-0 team watching them with questioning glances.

Brad keyed his mike. "We've got tire tracks, more than likely our two 'friends.' They definitely headed north from here, which is exactly where we're going to go. It's going to get a lot hotter before we know it as daybreak sets in. Stay in formation Brick. We're about to kick up some dust in your face."

Brick grabbed his bandana that had been hanging lazily around his neck, and pulled it up over his nose, looking like a renegade from the old Wild West. "Hold on to your butts, boys. This part can get a little rough."

Danny and Chin exchanged apprehensive glances, their eyebrows raised. Danny decided to follow Brick's lead and he tied his bandana over his face. He was beginning to think that Brick was cut from the same cloth as his partner.

His partner. Steve was lost out here somewhere, and this was the first real visual sign that they had to go on that they could use to try and track his friend's location. He hung on to the door frame as their jeep leapt forwards, and as their vehicle took a position alongside Kono and Lou's, he found himself hoping for some good fortune to come, for so far they've had none.

 **-H50-**

The moon had been overtaken by the dawn of the day, the sun's reign beginning as it appeared, peeking above the horizon. The temperature was still tolerable, the residual cool of the night lingering like a pleasurable aroma. One that would regrettably dissipate at some point soon.

Steve groggily awoke, muddled brain pushing away the fog of confusion and he became more aware of his surroundings. He noticed the light coming into his temporary accommodations, and he silently cursed. Damn. He'd missed most of the night's travel time.

He knew that getting some rest had allowed his body to recoup a minute fraction of his energy reserves, but his predicament demanded that he get at least _some_ rest. Better than none at all.

Gathering up his pack, he prepared himself for the next leg of his journey. While he had planned on travelling when the temperatures were cooler, he couldn't afford not to get moving ASAP. His plan was to continue moving northward, as he recalled the military base Delaram was in this area. To be honest he couldn't be sure if it was even still an active one, nor how accurate his memory was mostly due to his precarious health issues.

Steve had little else to go on, and his mind needed a goal- a purpose to use to command his body to move. All the more so because part of him, a rather significant part of him, would rather just take a long, long nap and hope to wake up and find out this was only a poorly written dream sequence.

He took one last sip of his water before stowing it away in one of his pants' pockets. He stuffed the Mi-35 pilot's pistol into his waistband, and returned his 226 to its holster before venturing out into the growing warmth of a new day.

Steve had walked for at least an hour in his opinion, based on the sun's travel, but it felt more like he'd been out here for days. So little distance in way too much time. He cursed his banged up leg- it was slowing his pace and adding to the stress his body was already enduring while coping with the unbearable heat.

His skin and innards felt like they were on fire, and he was reminded of the time he and Cath watched Raiders of the Lost Ark. Suddenly Tote's demise didn't seem so far-fetched. Scratch that. Such a thing can't really happen, his logical mind reminded him.

But what if it was true? If no one found him would he melt into a pile of liquid hot skin?

Wait. He stopped, pressing his eyes shut in an attempt to discard such ridiculous thoughts. He was losing his grip on reality. Dehydration was a very real threat, and he began to question if he was even thinking clearly.

Steve pressed his sunburned, dusty fingers against his closed lids, and shakily rubbed them as if he'd be able to clear his mind. Running a hand across his forehead he opened his eyes. His skin was so dry.

God he was so thirsty, and he resisted the urge to drink what remained of his water. The larger problem was that he wasn't certain how much longer he could remain in control of his actions. The hallucinations were becoming more frequent, albeit sporadic.

He could easily become a hazard to his own health.

Pushing the onslaught of negative thoughts aside, Steve plunged onward, drawing on his training and what little energy he had left to keep himself moving. He was spent, but he reminded himself that every step he took northward, was a step closer to possible rescue, and an exit out of Dashti Margo.

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 **TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks to everyone who's been sticking with this story, and I appreciate the follows/favs. Most of all thanks to everyone who takes the time to review. They really do fuel me to keep at it.**

 **Thanks to PP for continuing to be my second set of eyes on this story. Means the world to me, my friend. Mahalo.**

 **Been anxiously awaiting the season finale- all those tidbits of info/pictures are driving me crazy. I want May 13th now, and the muse has many scenarios playing out.**

 **Disclaimer: Still no money being made. Just enjoy the thrill of writing it.**

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"There," Afzal pointed out to a tired As'ad as he gestured up ahead. A long, black object protruded above an upcoming dune. The remains of a rotor blade. It had broken off when the Mi-35 had hit the earth, the thick sand that grabbed the large airfoil having mercilessly ripped the metal as if it were mere paper.

As'ad quietly thanked the appearance of the crash site, hoping that they would find evidence that would end Afzal's greed-driven mission, and he could go back to his family and return to business as usual.

They had lost the trail that the injured American had left some time ago, and it took all As'ad had to convince Afzal that they needed to temporarily forget the manhunt and find their helo as Abdul Al-Rashid requested. They could resume looking afterwards, and, he'd cleverly added that the wounded man probably found this helicopter if he'd kept going in the same direction northward.

Afzal had been reluctant at first, but after mulling over what his friend had suggested, he'd eventually agreed. Finding the American was also on Al-Rashid's list of requirements, and he would see to it that it was carried out. Cautiously they drove up to the helo, should the wounded man be taking refuge nearby. He'd learned from past experience that wounded soldiers could be like injured animals. Very dangerous.

The jeep crawled to a stop and Afzal cut the engine, silence filling the air. There were no sounds of movement, or life of any kind. The two men jumped out, rifles in hand.

They walked up to the dead pilot's body, Afzal's cold, dark eyes scanning the wreckage. "It appears our friend came this way," Afzal observed with slight unease, noting the neat, round bullet hole in Hamad's forehead. Clearly this person was skilled, and likely formidable.

By their hand or the enemy's, Hamad's fate had already been determined by Allah. The pilot had failed and paid the price for his inability to produce results. As'ad's head moved quickly as he looked nervously around, reminding Afzal of a small bird constantly on alert for a predator.

"Relax, As'ad," Afzal calmingly reassured his friend. "We are alone here." He crouched down, kneeling next to Hamad's lifeless body, hands probing.

"His pistol is missing." This new find confirmed his theory. "If our friend wasn't armed before, he is now," Afzal added, gaze taking in the entirety of the crash site.

Despite Afzal's reassurances, As'ad remained on high alert, his nerves taut like piano strings. "I don't like this, Afzal," he voiced worriedly. "We've found Hamad. The American is injured, and the desert will claim him. Al-Rashid will be pleased, and you will get what you want. I think we should-"

"No," Afzal cut in abruptly, almost vehemently. "It is not enough. We must hunt this man down, and get any information from him that we can. We will witness his death with our own eyes, perhaps by our own hand. Nothing else is acceptable."

His voice was strong with greed and conviction. "Al-Rashid would not settle for less. And neither will I."

As'ad's hope-filled expression shifted to one of reluctant agreement.

"You know this to be true, As'ad. There is no other choice," Afzal prodded further. He needed his friend to be on the same page again. No concessions.

"Of course, Afzal," As'ad replied flatly. There was little point in arguing with the man.

"Good," Afzal replied, pleased. He ran a hand through his thick beard, as he always did when he was confident in success. He walked to the rear of the Mi-35, eyes probing the terrain. He smiled as he noted the resurgence of footprints in the sand, the impressions continuing north.

"He looks to be continuing north, likely towards Khash- and out of the desert. He will not make it. We will see to that," Afzal announced, smiling malevolently.

-H50-

The journey north in hopes of coming across Tac and Steve, or perhaps even the enemy seemed futile in the face of the hand they'd been dealt in this game so far. Like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, the likelihood of finding the prize felt like a myth.

Danny wiped at his face, the sweat dotting his forehead in minute rivulets that eventually pooled and trailed a line down his sand covered cheek. The cloth over his face that was meant to keep the sand from Fox's jeep from getting into his nose apparently was not the foolproof method, and he felt like the grit had even found its way into his mouth. The moving air around him offered little respite from the heat, and he searched his pockets for the white cloth Brick had stuffed in his hand before they'd left, with a gruff _'You'll thank me later.'_

He tucked the white fabric under his hat, the material providing the perfect shelter for his neck and the sides of his face. Now he understood the functional reason for much of the loose fitting attire here. He could feel his hair plastered against his head, and he felt like he'd need to shower for at least a week when this was all over. His thoughts drifted to Steve and Tac, having to endure this heat while stranded. His bad hair day paled in comparison to their predicament.

The midday sun was relentless in its intensity, and Danny found himself longing for home and the cool Hawaiian surf. Who'd have thought he'd ever admit to that? If Steve ever found out...no, scratch that. He would give anything to spout that type of nonsense to his friend right now, and happily accept being the subject of his partner's jibes.

With little else to occupy his troubled mind, he found himself absently watching his two teammates in the other jeep alongside his. Lou was shifting around uncomfortably, and Danny heard grumblings about saunas filter through the comms. He opened his mouth to comment when Lou's irritated voice flooded the channel. "I don't know how you guys can live with this heat. I'm sweating like a pig here. I feel hotter and drier out here than a steak cooked for a day in the oven."

"Technically we don't live in the desert, Lou," Brick prodded, the smirk on his face evident in his voice.

"Close enough, wise guy," Grover retorted, wiping his brow. He rose to the verbal sparring challenge. "Have you been taking rapid courses from McGarrett or are all you military guys this witty."

Brick chuckled in reply. "Secretly we moonlight as stand-up comedians."

"I can only imagine how Steve and Tac must feel then," Chin interjected, his voice serious. "Must be hell out there."

Grover sighed, all joking shoved aside. He felt a little like a heel for complaining. "I know what you mean, Chin. I really hope they are ok."

"I hear you, brah," Chin agreed in earnest. "Steve is resourceful. If anyone can keep them alive, it's him."

The mood turned somber, the comms falling silent as everyone remained quiet, each alone with their thoughts. Some hopeful, some fearful for the outcome. The air around the jeeps was filled with a new tension, the feelings raw and very real.

Kono was the most quiet, her troubled gaze unfocused as she stared off in the distance. Danny was sure she still blamed herself, wishing she had done more. In truth, there wasn't anything that she could have done. Knowing it was true and actually accepting it were two different things, however, and Danny was fairly certain that acceptance, in Kono's case was still a long way off.

"Got a helo crash site ahead. Ours," Fox announced suddenly across the channel. "Look alive team. Approach with extreme caution. We don't know what unpleasant surprises might be waiting for us. Trap. IED. Anything," he advised.

"Understood, Fox," Brick replied, his demeanor all business.

The two jeeps came to a stop, their engines dying as they were switched off. The air was still, almost as though a dome had been placed over the crash site. It was eerily silent, and Danny felt like he was inside the vacuum of space. He clenched and unclenched his grip on his rifle in heightened anticipation, feeling like the quiet was the calm before the storm.

The team filed out of their vehicles, those that had donned the bandanas over their faces pulling them down to rest below their chin. Worry- filled gazes took in the overall scene, and seeds of doubt began to pull at the tenuous threads attached to their hopes.

Brad held up three fingers and motioned for Brick and Echo team to take the right side, while he circled left with Vulture, M4 at the ready should someone be lying in wait on the far side of the fuselage. Kono and Lou filed in behind, maintaining a respectful distance from each other's space.

Chin waited for Danny and Brick to lead, and he waited until they nearly reached the tail before he took up the rear. Nothing seemed out of place to him but IED's could be created from just about anything. It would be easy for someone to take out their entire team, and be nowhere near ground zero.

Brad lowered his rifle, once he'd visually scanned the exterior. This place looked untouched. Only carnage and death's hands lay a finger on this crash site. He stared at the open door of the helo, and sadness crept up inside him like a bad case of acid reflux, threatening to overwhelm him. He took a steadying breath. "Clear," he yelled hoarsely, once he'd found his voice.

"Clear here, Fox," Brick announced as he approached from the rear. "Aw, hell no," he spat in denial, his dark eyes having spotted the object of his commanding officer's pained gaze.

The six of them stood, staring in silent regret at the scene displayed before them. The charred carnage made a visual ID impossible, but there was no mistaking that one of their own had perished. Kono swatted at the moisture that threatened to pool in her eyes. She felt Chin's reassuring hand land on her shoulder, and she looked over to him and saw her feelings mirrored back at her. She nodded at her cousin, thanking him for his support, and she used his strength to maintain her composure.

Danny was afraid to look, and he felt guilty when it dawned on him that he was praying it wasn't Steve that had died. He felt slightly ashamed, but he was sure that many people had those same feelings of attachment and emotion when loved ones were in danger, and it didn't mean those other lives didn't matter. The possibility existed that whoever it was in the chopper may have been spared the anguish of dying from dehydration.

Danny knew for a fact that neither man would have left the other behind, so he drew the conclusion that the person was already dead before the crash. He hoped. He didn't want to consider the alternative scenario.

Fox was the one who found his feet first, and he slowly approached, hand tentatively reaching out to grasp the sooty dog tag that was dangling lazily from the body. He knew right then who it was, as he'd not seen Steve wearing one. The tag fell easily into his waiting palm at the touch, the fragile chain having lost its integrity from the fire.

Brad rubbed a thumb across its surface, leaving a smeary line through the residue. He clenched his fingers around the tag, stubby fingernails digging into his palm. He cast a sidelong glance at Brick, his icy blue eyes glassy as he managed to maintain his composure over the loss.

So young. So much promise.

Brick read his commanding officer's eyes like they were an open book. He knew immediately who had died, and a plethora of emotions began to surge within him like an active volcano, just waiting to erupt.

Anger. Sadness. Vengeance.

All volleyed for his attention and he growled, large hand impacting the only thing nearby- the helicopter's charred fuselage.

Danny flinched at the sound of flesh hitting metal, and he was sure he heard bones breaking. Relief and sadness flooded through him. Steve wasn't here, and that meant he was out there somewhere, possibly alive. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Poor Tac. He seemed like a great guy, and he was so full of life. He cleared his throat as if to speak, but he couldn't find the words.

"Tac was a good man," Chin voiced, brown eyes full of compassion. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Brad nodded his thanks, and he pocketed the tag. "He fought for what he believed in," he stated quietly. "He knew the risks. We all do. Yet we still answer the call to fight for peace and freedom." This wasn't the first man he'd lost under his command, and sadly he knew Tac would also not be the last. It was the nature of their chosen life.

Brick flexed his right hand. The skin on his knuckles had split open, and he stared at the small rivulets of blood, seeming to relish in the pain that radiated through him.

"Shawn _,_ " Hunter called out, but the man did not appear to hear him.

"Shawn!" he tried again.

Brick shook his head and turned to focus on Brad, who had been calling his name, a concerned expression on his face. "Sorry sir. Won't happen again," he apologized, angry with himself for zoning out while on duty.

Hunter nodded in understanding. This was an outcome that they all knew could occur, yet when it hit this close to home it was hard to prepare for, even for a strong individual like Brick. Despite the situation, he needed his man's head back in the game. Brick thrived on orders and the chain of command, and Brad chose to use that to his advantage, to snap the large man out of it.

"Radio these co-ordinates back to the compound, Brick. Have a team come and collect Tac and bring him home."

"Roger," Brick acknowledged, demeanor outwardly shifting right back to business as he moved to the nose of the helo to make the call. This was going to be hard. Tac was like a brother to him, and he decided to harness his inner turmoil and use the anguish to fuel his anger and determination to finish this rescue mission. He hoped to hell McGarrett was out there somewhere, alive. To lose two good men... he forced the negative thoughts aside and got on the horn to base.

Danny sighed. He was spent. His mental state was slowly being chipped away, like a stone slab under a sculptor's chisel. He didn't know how much more of this he could handle. "How do we know Steve left here on his own, and not in the dirty hands of those two goons? We don't even know how injured he might be."

"Hey guys. Over here," Kono called out as she kneeled down, her innate attention to details giving them the clue they desperately needed. "The Boss left here on his own. Look at these tracks. They were made by one person."

"Nice catch, cuz," Chin praised, eliciting a small smile from her, though it never quite reached her eyes.

"No doubt our terrorist Hansel and Gretel were here too late to apprehend McGarrett," Lou commented. "They'd have stashed him in their vehicle and been long gone from here faster than a cat being chased by a dog."

"Agreed," Fox concurred as he nodded at Grover's comment. "These guys may be sloppy at covering their tracks, but we'd be remiss in assuming they didn't spot Steve's footprints."

"I sure hope he had enough of a head start on them," Chin added.

"Doesn't look like they left here in a hurry, either," Kono supplied. "I don't think they were in a rush to chase him."

Danny stared at his friend's footprints, noting the irregularity. He squatted down and scooped up a handful of sand, examining the grains as they fell through his grasp. "I got blood. There's several drops of it here, and judging by the uneven prints, Steve's definitely hurt." He stood up, dusting his hand across his pant leg. "We've got to find him," he voiced worriedly.

"Follow the scumbags, find McGarrett," Brick growled as he rejoined the group. No one else was going to lose their lives because of these people, he vowed to himself. He turned to Hunter. "A team is being dispatched and is on their way to our whiskey to extract Tac's body and demo the helo."

"Good work," Brad replied. "Let's get a move on. This heat isn't going anywhere for a number of hours, and we don't know how much of a lead Steve has on those two terrorists."

They climbed into their jeeps, each of them saddened by the loss of Tac, but encouraged by the discovery that Steve had at least managed to escape. The trail was there for them to follow, and it was the best news they've had in what felt like days.

The jeeps' suspension groaned as the deeper sand of the area made gaining traction difficult, and Fox set their course, Brick bringing his jeep alongside in a staggered formation as they headed off in search of Steve.

-H50-

Steve trudged along like a zombie that was aimlessly meandering in search of a meal. His meal however, was an exit out of the desert, and his hunger for that goal had turned to famine. His straight path had changed into a wandering pattern, with no real direction as his body grew weaker from his injuries and the exposure to the elements.

He squinted in an attempt to block the sunlight from his eyes as he tried to get a better look up ahead. There was something standing in his path- a dark blurry shape that appeared to get closer and closer with each wavering step. "D'nny?" he mumbled. But the dark blob he'd spotted wasn't moving, and he started to wonder why.

Steve rubbed his eyes as he tried to make the figure come in to focus. "D'nny?" he croaked once more, throat parched. He dry coughed, his throat feeling like eighty grit sandpaper. He began to wonder why 'Danny' wasn't rushing over to his side to offer aid. The blob made no moves as if in defiance, as though trying to prove some sort of point.

Steve continued to head towards 'Danny'. His side burned as though it were on fire, and his leg was in agony from the uneven trek across the desert. The continued stress on the fractured joint proved to be too much to take and he stumbled into 'Danny', who was nothing more than a human sized rock. He trailed his dry, sunburned fingers along the warm, rough surface, and he broke down, a desperate sob slipping past what remained of his composure.

No tears came- he was too dehydrated. This wasn't Danny. He was sure he'd spotted his partner, only to realize his mind was playing a cruel joke on him. He dropped to his knees, uncaring of the repercussions to his leg, his mind and body no longer remaining within his conscious control.

He couldn't trust what he saw or did. How did he know if this was even real? He did all that he could do, more than most people could have done and he was at the end of his endurance level. He felt like a dripping tap, slowly losing a small piece of his life one drop at a time, slipping away with no way to stop the leak.

Steve fumbled with the water bottle in his pocket in desperation, clumsily grabbing at the smooth surface with stiff fingers. He tilted his head back, bottle poised above his mouth. Only a dribble of water met his lips and he dropped the spent bottle, the plastic falling from his loose grip in reluctant defeat.

His pale, dry lips parted as he uttered a mirthless laugh, his voice cracking. He listed to the side, torso falling to the sand with a muffled thud. He rolled onto his back, eyes unfocussed as he stared at the clear and cloudless blue sky. He didn't have the energy. Not anymore. And he berated himself for it.

"No...su'pr SEAL here, Danny," he croaked, his mind a confused, defeated mess. He'd lasted much longer and gone further than most people could, yet he was unable to see it. To him, it was not enough. He'd failed. Steve looked to 'Danny', eyes glassy. His body refused to obey any command to get up. His eyelids felt heavy, and he could feel himself losing the battle to the unrelenting grasp of Dashti Margo.

"Srry, Danno... I tried," he whispered quietly, before unconsciousness claimed him.

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 **TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me and this story. I appreciate all the support from everyone.**

 **Mahalo to my beta PP. You are a wonderful mentor, and a ray of sunshine for my confidence, and my muse.**

 **Disclaimer- I do this for the enjoyment only.**

* * *

The two jeeps pushed northwards, the midday sun beating down on the occupants. The trip had been silent, each team member keeping their thoughts surrounding Tac's death and Steve's potential whereabouts to themselves. The scene they'd left behind had them all shaken, Brick more visibly so, and no one felt comfortable enough with the emotional waves they were currently riding to voice their feelings.

Danny adjusted the scarf covering his face, the fabric managing to keep the majority of the dust out of his nose and mouth. He thought back to the crash site- the aftermath of the tense aerial battle he was sure that had occurred beforehand. He didn't know who this Al-Rashid guy was, but if the guy had that kind of resources and equipment to get the jump on well-trained military operatives, he decided that he now understood why Brick and Fox had been so concerned back at Samir's. This guy clearly liked to throw his weight around, and his concern over finding Steve in time rose to an all-time high.

Brick, lately a man of few words, piloted the jeep as though he were the only one riding in it. His expression was neutral, yet his anger was boiling just below the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. Danny couldn't help but steal glances at the big man, as though he expected him to lose it at any moment.

"You can stop staring at me, Detective," Brick suddenly said, causing Danny to quickly avert his gaze as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I'm fine," he added roughly as he glanced briefly at the blond, voice convincing enough, but his eyes easily betrayed him.

Danny wasn't fooled, but he let the implied subject go. "Whenever you're ready," he offered quietly without accusation or judgement, tone non-combatant. He could only imagine what the man must be feeling right now, and he hoped to hell those same painful emotions weren't in store for him; that he wouldn't end up mourning the loss of his own friend.

Brick's mouth upturned with quiet thanks, grateful to Danny for his understanding. "We're here," he pointed out, looking glad to have something else to focus on other than his emotions.

"Where would these guys get this good an attack helicopter?" Chin inquired, eyes narrowed in scrutiny as they neared ground zero of the Mi-35's grave.

"For a dirt bag like Al-Rashid, this kind of acquisition is child's play, Chin," Brick replied darkly, anger lacing his voice. "I'm sure this isn't the only one he has. Or _had_ ," he said in slight triumph.

Fox slowed his jeep, keying the comms. "Looks like we've got a body here, Echo team. Let's do a recon of the area, see if there's any clues on Steve's location. Stay sharp."

Danny's heart dropped at the mention of a body, but his fears were quickly abated at Fox's comment about finding Steve's location. Not him. He sighed with relief.

The vehicles came to a stop, the two teams climbing out. They treated this location with as much caution as the other crash site, if not more. Never know when the enemy might leave a trap for their quarry. Nothing seemed amiss, but those types of scenarios could be the most deadly.

They fanned out around the Mi-35, adopting the same formation as they had around their own helo's crash site. Lou blinked away the moisture that continued to drip into his eyes as it ran down from his brow. He was sweating like a pig, and a man of his size and physical shape wasn't cut out for this kind of climate.

While Danny didn't play golf, he knew for a fact that Lou always rode a cart, and the blond was almost certain Grover would take a freezing Chicago winter over this. Hell he'd welcome a frosty Jersey snowfall himself if it meant getting out of this searing heat.

"Clear over here," Grover announced from his position.

"Copy, Lou," Brad confirmed. "Kono?"

"All clear here, Captain," she replied, her grip on her MP7A1 relaxed yet at the ready. She'd beamed when Brick had one of these compact SMG's in their armory. Kono had grown to love the easy handling and versatility it offered. Danny knew that Kono was more at home behind her Remington 700 sniper rifle for long range. She was a good shot, and he'd chuckled when Chin couldn't help but broadcast her expertise with the long barreled rifle to Brick, who couldn't wipe the smile off of his face during their armory loadout.

They converged around the pilot's dead body, taking in the bloody clothing and the sunbaked skin.

"Looks like this guy's day didn't end too well," Chin deadpanned quietly, observing the gunshot wound to the Afghani man's head.

"Question is, was it McGarrett or our two bozos that killed him?" Lou voiced, certain that same question was on everyone else's mind.

Danny looked around, blue eyes scanning the sand for signs of his partner. Any sign that he'd been here. Alive. He cursed the brightness of the sun, eyes narrowed even behind his sunglasses. A glint of something caught his eye, and he moved to pick up the object.

"This is a nine mil casing, guys," he affirmed, his voice filled with hope.

Fox approached the pilot's body, reaching for the leg holster. "His sidearm is gone."

"Maybe Steve took it after he'd passed by here?" Chin suggested, and Fox turned to meet his gaze with a look of reserved agreement. No one wanted to jump to conclusions just yet.

Brick waved a dismissive hand at the pilot. "These guys typically carry Glock 20's, which uses a .45 ACP round. No way in hell it was his own gun that killed him."

"Steve carries a P226," Danny informed him. Finally, some more good news. More than likely his friend was here, and functioning on some sort of level of physicality. He breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Then I'd say that McGarrett was definitely here, guys," Lou voiced, eliciting small nods of agreement from the Five-0 team.

"Then let's get our butts in gear, ladies and gentlemen," Fox instructed. "The clock is ticking on this one, and we all know Steve's time could be running out. We know he was still mobile, and we know he's got a lead on our 'friends'. For now. So let's go get our man, and kick some ass."

"Amen, sir," Brick agreed. "Should I dispatch a team to blow up this helo?"

"That's a negative, Shawn," Fox replied. "There's nothing useable left on this hulk that Al-Rashid would even remotely want. I'd rather not spare the men, and keep our exposure limited."

Brick nodded in understanding. "Copy that."

Danny stole a glance at Kono, who he had been noticing had been taking this whole thing pretty hard. This new lead seemed to lighten her spirits somewhat, and he gave her a reassuring touch on the shoulder as he passed by on his way back to his jeep. "We'll get him back," he said, attempting to restore her faith in herself.

Kono replied with a small smile at the touch of support, and taking one last look at the crash site's remains, she followed Lou and Fox to the jeep. Danny knew that she wouldn't feel totally at ease until Steve was safe and sound. A feeling which he knew they all shared.

The two jeeps fired up and continued north, following what remained of the tracks left by As'ad and Afzal's jeep, leaving the crumpled metal of the Mi-35 helo behind like a distant memory.

-H50-

Afzal manhandled their jeep across the terrain, as he and As'ad continued to follow Steve's trail. The suspension grunted and groaned under the strain of absorbing the tires' aggressive movements, the sand finding its way into places it shouldn't be as it was flung haphazardly into the wheel wells.

They were almost at the large, looming red rock face when a loud bang echoed across the immediate area, the sound pinging off the structure ahead. The wheel was ripped from Afzal's busy hands as though it had a mind of its own and he jumped in his seat at the sudden aggressive motion, startled at the intrusion.

Afzal uttered several expletives as the jeep pitched harshly to the left, tire bucking as it was wrenched to the side on an awkward angle as the ball joint was forcefully separated. The front fender became a giant plow as it dug into the sand, the tire twisting sideways to the chassis as it dug into the unforgiving earth. The instant resistance from the dense sand on the sidewall of the tire ripped the wheel right off the studs, and the vehicle leaned forwards on the rotor. With nothing left to keep the jeep upright the mangled suspension buried deep into the sand and in the blink of an eye was heading for a roll that was impossible for Afzal to stop.

"Afzal!" As'ad cried in panic as he felt the jeep quickly list to the side, his hands hanging on for dear life, face full of fear.

As though playing in slow motion, the jeep careened sideways, rolling onto the driver's side. The fact that they weren't wearing seatbelts stopped the chassis from crushing them, and they were tossed into the sand like flimsy toys.

As'ad landed awkwardly, colliding with Afzal as he was ejected from his seat. The stock of his AK connected with his forehead as it was tossed out of the back seat, momentarily stunning him.

Afzal grunted when his friend fell against him, the sand beneath him cushioning his body from any major damage. He clambered to his feet slowly, a cut above his eye from where his head had hit something sharp during the roll. A small line of blood trailed down his face, and he wiped the offending liquid away with his sleeve, dark eyes filled with anger. This was a setback he didn't need.

Afzal stole a glance at As'ad. "Are you ok?" he questioned as he began gathering their packs and guns, not waiting long for his friend to reply.

As'ad clambered to his feet, hand moving to rub the goose egg that was forming on his forehead. "I think so," he replied with a wince.

"Good," Afzal stated quickly, eager to move on with their mission. "Grab that gun and let's go see if the American is in the cave." He stroked his beard in thought. "Allah is testing our will to complete our task. He will find that we will not waver in the face of what is simply a minor setback."

As'ad took the pack that Afzal had thrust in his direction, slinging it over his shoulder. He couldn't wait until this was over. It was hot, even to his acclimatized body, and now they were without transportation. He got the feeling that Afzal had no plans to radio back to have a vehicle sent out. No, he was sure that his friend would only do so once they had the American captured, and that thought worried him.

Afzal had already started walking, leaving As'ad standing there mulling over his harried thoughts. The man looked back, wondering what was keeping his friend. "We must get going, As'ad!" he called. "I am sure he can't be far away now."

As'ad jogged lazily to catch up, breathing out a tired breath even a short jog like that produced. "How can you be so sure, Afzal?" He didn't think this mission was going to turn into some long-winded manhunt, and so far the injured American has still managed to be one step ahead of them.

Afzal regarded his friend quietly, knowing that As'ad would never rise to any position of power. Too slow to capitalize on an opportunity, and too blind to the obvious. "We know he is wounded in some capacity, so we will catch up to him soon, my friend. It is inevitable. The desert will see to it that we close the gap. She takes pity on no man."

As'ad nodded after a moment. Afzal was right. They would easily catch up, and with the lingering trail laid out for them to follow, he hoped they could end this insane journey swiftly. He looked at the cave just ahead, eyes following the tracks that appeared to lead right into the dark mouth. He moved towards it, about to saunter right in with little regard for the possibility that it might be occupied.

Afzal abruptly placed a hand on As'ad's shoulder, stopping his careless advance. "Wait," he hissed, lowering his voice. "He might still be here. We need to use some caution." He dropped his hand from As'ad's arm.

As'ad stared at the cave's entrance as if in a trance, eyes wide with fearful realization of what could have happened if he'd entered. He kicked himself mentally for his carelessness. He wanted to get this over with, and his lapse in judgment could have been the biggest mistake he ever made. Or his last. He leaned closer to Afzal, voice lowered conspiratorially. "I see faint tracks overlapping the ones entering. Perhaps he's gone already?" He squinted, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

"Possible. There is too much at stake to take any chances on a guess, As'ad," he reminded him. He stared at the entranceway, a thousand scenarios on how this could go playing through his mind. Some paths would bring the success he sought, others showed him his demise.

"Watch the entrance while I go in. You know what to do."

As'ad nodded without enthusiasm. He was scared, and his legs felt like jelly; he just wanted this over with. He watched Afzal disappear into the cave, and he kept his rifle trained on the door, ready to defend himself.

All was quiet, and the lack of any sound of scuffle or gunfire caused As'ad to relax, and his shoulders slumped in relief moments later when he saw Afzal reappear out from the dark mouth of the entrance, and into the hot sun.

"He's gone," Afzal stated angrily, hand raising to present a wad of bloodied gauze that he'd found discarded on the cave floor. "And judging by the blood on this, he's definitely more wounded than we thought." He licked his lips in debauched triumph as he tossed the soiled cloth back into the cave. He had this wrapped up. He could almost taste the victory.

As'ad sighed and he rested his AK against a rock, before dropping his pack on the ground. He trusted the path Allah had laid out for him, but he wasn't so sure Afzal's plans were included. He was sure his perseverance was being tested, and he intended on trying his hardest. For his family's sake. He retrieved his water bottle, and took a long drink, relishing in the moisture. He looked around, gaze focused on the ground leading away from the cave. He switched out his spent water bottle for a pair of binoculars.

"His tracks look to be continuing to the north."

"Agreed. It will not be long now. Soon victory will be ours," Afzal chanted before taking a drink of his own water. He stuffed the bottle back into his bag. "Let's go. Abdul Al-Rashid must surely be awaiting our successful completion of this task." His gaze lingered on As'ad, as if waiting for the man to show any sign of resolve in completing their assignment.

Appearing satisfied, Afzal grabbed his pack and his AK, and began walking. His disdain over having to trek it on foot from here was overshadowed by the mission, and the rewards he would acquire. He intended to enjoy the fruits of his labour. He led the way, As'ad hurrying to fall into step alongside.

They left the cave, and their trashed transport behind, their eyes and minds focused northward to the prize they were sure was not far ahead.

-H50-

Fox drove towards a large rock face looming in the distance, as they continued to follow the tire track indentations left by their two targets, laid out like a perfect impression of a vehicular version of Hansel and Gretel. The 'breadcrumbs' may as well have been giant flashing road signs that exclaimed 'This Way'. Whether the resulting trail was lucky or unlucky in terms of Steve's chances for survival remained to be seen.

The consensus had been that Steve would continue to head north, and would have sought any type of shelter he could. So when the tire tracks they were following led directly towards the massive, red stone, they were sure they were on the right track. They just hoped they weren't too late.

"What the hell is that? Looks like a vehicle or something ahead," Lou voiced, and his eyes narrowed to get a better look, as though doing so would grant him magnified vision.

Kono brought her submachine gun's magnified scope to her eye, the image bouncing around even though she made every attempt to keep it steady within the circular viewfinder. She smiled slightly at the image hope filling her voice. "Definitely a vehicle, Lou. It's a jeep lying on its side. I don't see any occupants."

Brad's firm, commanding voice filtered through the comms. "Immobilized jeep ahead, Echo Team. No other visuals. Looks abandoned. Stay frosty."

"Copy," Brick replied on behalf of his team. His gloved fingers tightened on the wheel, his anger resurging at his failure in detaining Afzal and As'ad.

"Any sign of Steve?" Danny prodded as he struggled to see.

"Nothing yet, Danny. Sorry," Kono replied softly, regret lingering in her voice.

Danny nodded in reply even though Kono couldn't see him from her seat in the other jeep. She easily understood his silence, and her soft voice returned across the comms. She was feeling the weight of this just as he was.

"We'll find him, Danny."

Fox took his foot off the gas, allowing the jeep to slowly lumber to a stop next to As'ad and Afzal's abandoned, beaten up vehicle. His senses were on high alert for danger as his blue eyes scanned the scene. All was quiet.

"About time we had some good fortune," he announced as he heard Brick's jeep roll up and stop alongside.

"Guess that's the price you pay for poor vehicle maintenance," Lou joked when he saw the broken suspension. "You know back home in Chicago we used to get pot holes that consumed entire vehicles. You maintained your car or paid the price when it broke."

Brick chuckled and shut off the jeep, rifle in hand as he climbed out. Chin, and Danny grabbed their guns and followed suit.

Fox, Kono and Lou got out of their vehicle, expressions determined. It definitely looked like their targets had a very high energy mishap, yet no one dared make any assumptions on whether or not Steve was with them when it happened, or if he'd managed to stay one step ahead.

"Looks like they went for quite the ride," Chin commented as he walked around the crashed jeep. "I've got traces of blood on the door sill."

"Let's hope they got their bells rung," Lou added as he moved to the back of the jeep, noting the holes in the rear. "You peppered them pretty good, Brick."

Brick snorted in self-recrimination, his voice filled with regret at his inability to get the job done when the moment was critical. Everyone knew Brick was being hard on himself over this, feeling partially responsible. "Not good enough, Captain Grover. Not even close."

Grover nodded in understanding. He knew from past experience what sort of guilt one could carry around when one felt their actions weren't good enough, or when their choices filled only with good intentions ended up causing an operation to go south.

"The foot prints look like they lead into that cave over there," Danny observed, hand raised as he waved it in the direction of the rock face.

"Go check it out, Echo Team. We'll stay out here and keep watch," Fox directed at the threesome, and he went to inspect the overturned jeep for any further intel.

Brick moved carefully towards the mouth of the cave, Chin and Danny falling into step just behind. They had their rifles at the ready, should anyone be taking refuge inside. Brick switched on his rail-mounted tac light, and locked eyes with the two men. "On me," he instructed.

When he received confirming nods from Chin and Danny, he turned and disappeared into the cave.

Danny was the second to vanish into the blackness, with Chin taking up rear guard slightly behind the blond. Once inside, Brick shone his light about the cave, surprised to find the area was smaller than he'd been expecting. Many of the caves he'd been in during terrorist manhunts typically were far larger and more intricately formed, comprised of several tunnels and open spaces. This one was about the size of a small car garage.

Small or not, it would easily provide an ideal place for someone to lay low and be sheltered from the intense heat of the desert. Although it wasn't cold in the cave by any means, the air temperature differential would be substantial enough that it would feel many times cooler than the sweltering heat outside. And once the sun set, the walls of the cave would provide much needed protection from the bitterness of the nighttime cold.

"It's clear guys," Brick informed the team over the radio. "No one home."

Danny sighed, his hopes of finding Steve hiding here washed away like a bridge failing under raging floodwaters. That simple statement held far too much weight, crushing his slowly crumbling resolve of finding his friend before it was too late.

Even in the low light, Danny noted the frown that had appeared on Chin's face had been gradually increasing upon hearing the news. Chin's brow was furrowed- the older man was obviously confused over some detail Danny was clearly missing.

"This doesn't make sense," Chin finally said, and Brick's light swung in his direction, blanketing the man's face in a wash of white light. "Why are all those footprints outside? These guys have clearly been on Steve's trail since square one, so why waste time coming in here after they crashed?"

"Maybe they needed a place to rest," Brick offered. "Pity that's the worst that happened," he added with a growl.

Danny had a feeling, one that he couldn't quite explain. Something, call it gut instinct or even a deeper connection. He _knew_ Steve had been here. Resting. Seeking shelter from the hot, unbearable sun, and enduring the pain of his injuries. He grabbed a flashlight from his pocket and switched it on. His partner must have begun to rub off on him, because he felt like a boy scout for having even thought to bring it. He smiled to himself at the warming thought, and shone the light about the cave, focusing on the floor.

"What is it, Danny?" Chin questioned, his voice filled with curiosity.

"Steve was here," Danny said as he crouched down to hesitantly pick up a crumpled wad of blood-stained vet wrap. His friend was bleeding far too much for his liking, and his hand shook slightly with the implication. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm his frazzled nerves. He'd normally be a ranting basket case, as he traditionally was when he was under emotional stress, but it took everything he'd had since this shit started to keep himself focused and in check.

Danny clutched the bandage as though it was his only lifeline to his friend, and having it would somehow make Steve magically appear. He could feel the wetness near his eyes, and he reigned in his tears, blinking quickly in an attempt to stop them. "There's too much blood, Chin."

He felt Chin's reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"He was able to tend to his wounds, Danny. We both know how strong and resilient Steve is. He's made it this far, brah. We'll get him home."

Danny stood up, eyes downcast at the red-stained fabric in his grasp. "We need to find him, Chin. Despite my constant reminders to the contrary, he's still only human."

Chin nodded, expression somber. "I know."

Brick softly cleared his throat, feeling like a heel for interrupting the semi-private heart to heart. Chin and Danny turned quickly to look at Brick, almost as if they'd forgotten he was there.

"I uh, don't see any signs of struggle, so I'd say Steve beat those two dirt bags out of here. My guess is they found exactly what we just did, and have gone in pursuit," Brick said carefully. "Difference is now they are also on foot."

Danny sighed and nodded. No amount of words would convince him to relax until he laid eyes on Steve in the flesh. He switched off the flashlight and shoved it back into his pocket, expression tight with emotional turmoil.

"Let's go find Steve," he stated flatly, and he walked towards the cave mouth, the bandage gripped with almost desperate force in his numb fingers, feeling his hopes for finding his friend alive grow dimmer with every passing moment. He stuffed the fabric into his pocket, unwilling to allow this small semblance of what remained of his tangible connection to Steve to slip out of his grasp.

Chin and Brick exchanged worried glances. They were all feeling the strain of this mission, Danny visibly more so. Chin sighed and followed the blond out into the sun-bathed desert, prepared to update the rest of the team on their findings.

Brick switched off his tac light, lips pursed in anger. Why did bad things always happen to good people? He followed the two men back outside and back into the waiting arms of Dashti Margo, vengeance playing on his mind.

* * *

 **TBC**

 **Sorry, I know there's no Steve in this chapter.. he'll be back in the next one. Promise. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I apologize for way, way too long a break between chapters. I had high hopes before I went on vacation for getting to it when I got back, but sometimes the best laid plans aren't always the way things end up. The muse took a hike and so I finished reading A Tom Clancy novel and a Dale Brown book hoping to bring myself back. So here I am.**

 **I had written a monster of a chapter and became overwhelmed, and my wonderful and patient beta had a look over it, she suggested what I'd been thinking. Split it up.**

 **So here's chapter 13, and 14 will be not far behind his time. I hope I still have some followers- I understand as a reader what happens when a large break happens between chapters. But I also understand now as a hobby writer that sometimes things don't always work out as planned.**

 **Thanks PP for your steadfast work on this, and everything you do means a lot to me, my friend. I apologize for not acting sooner on your hard work with the beta on these two chapters.**

 **I hope everyone enjoys. Action to come in the next chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: This is purely for fun. I own nothing.**

* * *

Steve felt like he was floating, his body light and airy as if he were a hawk's feather, gently being embraced by a warm updraft. The breeze, cool and refreshing, caressed his sunbaked skin as it swirled around him. He looked to the sky before lowering his gaze to the ocean's relaxing surf, the steady rhythm of the waves calming his mind.

Something didn't feel right though. Confused, he looked around. Where exactly was he? He felt no pain, and curiously he took in his body's appearance.

He was dressed in a loose tank top and board shorts, and his bare feet were covered in soft Hawaiian sand. He looked curiously towards his abdomen, hands probing his left side. Raising his shirt he found only clean, unmarred skin. A frown began to form on his face. Wasn't he supposed to be injured?

He worked his bare toes deep into the powdery white sand, and his mind assaulted him with memories of hot, grainy beige granules. He winced in confusion at the recollection and groaned involuntarily, dropping roughly to his knees.

Was he dead? If so was this heaven? Where was his dad?

' _Dad!'_ Steve called out, blue eyes scanning the shoreline for signs of his father. But there was not a soul to be found. He was alone.

Suddenly he felt hot as if his skin were on fire and he rocked back on his heels, hands raised as he dug his palms into his closed eyes. Unsummoned tears threatened to fall from beneath clenched eyelids, but none came and he dropped his arms uselessly to his sides, gaze dropping to the surf.

The vibrant blue water had turned a shade of angry red, the clear sky having clouded over with tremulous black convective clouds, their edges rolling about the sky like acrid smoke from a fire.

Steve looked down at his hands and arms, the skin there was burned and blistered, and abruptly he felt as though he'd been stabbed in the side and he cried out in confused agony. The surf came closer as if the tide has risen, the water threatening to consume him as it began to encroach on his knees.

As he stared at the blood-coloured water it shimmered darkly to form a face, charred and twisted.

' _Tac?'_ Steve murmured, his expression contorting into one of guilt and self-recrimination.

Tac's lips moved, but no voice could be heard.

' _I'm sorry,'_ Steve whispered to the image. _'I had no choice. I...,'_ he uttered, his plea lost on the ghostly visage.

Tac's eyes closed and the clouds dissipated like smoke being purged from a room, the image vanishing along with them.

Steve croaked with regret at the realization that he was the cause of Tac's death. He hadn't left him on purpose, but if he didn't allow the younger man to accompany him in the first place... He broke down, his stormy blue eyes clouded as he stared at the raging water before him, lost and alone in his fevered dreams.

' _Steve?'_ He heard his name echo from the water, and he cast his gaze down towards his knees, worried what he may see if he looked back up again. Gathering some courage he cautiously peered up. The water had returned to blue, and he carefully took in his surroundings.

' _Steve?'_ His name reached his ears once more.

' _Danny?'_ he uttered hopefully.

A figure in the distance approached, but never ventured close enough to make contact.

' _Danny?'_ Steve tried again.

The figure nodded solemnly, but to Steve's dismay never came towards him. _'I'm coming, Steve. You need to hold on babe. Please,'_ the figure of Danny pleaded.

' _I don't think I can...I,'_ Steve began, about to dismiss his own will to continue. He'd failed on so many levels. How could he go on?

' _You can, Steve. The team needs you. I need you,'_ Danny encouraged, drilling his point home, desperation in his voice.

Steve opened his mouth to answer when the environment around him shifted once more, and Danny's image began to fade. He felt something touching him, interrupting his conversation.

' _No!'_ he called out to Danny as the clouds moved in to occupy the vacant space left by his friend. _'Don't go. I need you. Please,'_ he cried in uncharacteristic desperation, and he swatted at the invisible touch that had been jostling him.

' _Danny...,'_ he feebly cried before his dream world went black as he was torn roughly back to semi-consciousness. Words floated past his ears, and he struggled to understand them.

What now felt like hands continued to touch him, the unfamiliar feeling urging his mind to command his wounded and weather-beaten body to react to defend itself. More words followed, and his mind began to process the language. Pashto. Shit.

The continued movement to his body only increased his pain and urged his mind back to semi-consciousness, his fight or flight instinct growing. Steve felt himself being relieved of his P226, and he hoped they didn't find the pistol he'd tucked into his waistband in the small of his back. He was laying on it, so the chance of it being found was unlikely.

The hands abruptly left his body, and he decided that whoever these people were, they weren't skilled. Unfortunately erratic enemies could be almost as dangerous due to their unpredictability. Steve was unable to reach the spare pistol, as the effort it would take to overcome his weight would prove to be too much for his damaged body to undertake without being spotted.

He cracked his eyes open to tiny slits in an attempt to get a better visual of his enemy. The sun's blinding light assaulted his pupils and he resisted the urge to slam his eyes shut under the onslaught. He didn't know how long he could remain conscious and lucid, so every bit of information he could get would be crucial. Neither of them appeared to be looking his way, and the one with the thick beard had a radio to his lips. The other had an AK trained on his prone form, the muzzle shakily wavering about. This one was definitely nervous.

He used this moment to slowly reach his sun burned fingers into his pocket, fumbling for his tactical knife. His trembling fingers felt its hard, reassuring presence and he gripped it tightly, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. With a speed he didn't think that even he was capable of in his current state, he drew out his knife. In one swift movement he flipped out the blade and plunged it into the leg of the man with the radio.

A howl of pain and anger, followed by several expletives reached his ears, and predictably the timid one with the AK recoiled in fear, rather than firing at him.

Steve's relief was short lived, however, as the man he'd stabbed recovered from his initial shock and the SEAL felt an aggressive kick to his wounded side which caused him to curl in on himself as he tried to ride out the pain, eyes clenching shut in agony as his vision began to grey.

"Bastard!" Steve heard through the fog of unconsciousness that began to surround him. "No, don't shoot him," the voice continued, sounding farther away. "His time will come."

Steve fought the encroaching darkness, but his will to stay in control of what remained of his awareness lost out to his body's weakened state, and he descended once more into blackness.

-H50-

 _...moments earlier..._

"There," Afzal announced to a tired As'ad, hand raised to indicate what looked to be a dark, human sized blob about 150 yards away.

As'ad's mood improved upon hearing the possibility of an end to this suicidal mission. He'd been silent for most of the trip since leaving the cave. He was tired, and quite frankly he'd had enough of the sun and Dashti Margo.

"Is it him?" he inquired hopefully.

"Hard to tell, but it's definitely a person. Keep your weapon ready. We will take no chances. Especially not now. We've come too far," Afzal replied as he licked his lips in anticipation of achieving one of his goals. "I would be surprised if it wasn't him."

"Who would be stupid enough to be out here on foot?" As'ad added.

"Exactly my thoughts, my friend," Afzal agreed as he patted the man on the shoulder. "Let's finish this, and show Abdul Al-Rashid and our people what we are capable of." The two men approached the man's pone body cautiously, weapons raised and at the ready, should Steve make any sudden moves.

"Is he alive?" As'ad quietly asked, his body ridged with nerves, knuckles white with the strangling grip he had on his gun.

"I'm not sure," Afzal replied, his movements cautious as he walked closer to the foreigner's unconscious form. He noted the red, sun burned skin and the general pallor of the American's face. He wanted to get a better read on whether the man was alive.

"Should we call Al-Rashid?" As'ad questioned, relying on Afzal to call the shots. He could barely keep himself together let alone make decisions.

"Not yet," Afzal snapped quickly in reply. "Cover me."

He cautiously reached down, hands roughly manhandling the American as he felt around the man's neck, looking for a pulse. He found one. Weak, but definitely present.

As'ad shifted nervously as he watched his friend check the body for signs of life. "Well?" he prodded impatiently.

Afzal frowned at As'ad's pressing tone, but he decided to shrug it off. "He's alive." He reached down, relieving the man of his P226, and handed the pistol to As'ad. "We need a ride out of here to Khash. Now that we have some success to show Al-Rashid, he will supply us with whatever we desire."

As'ad took the offered pistol and stuffed it into his pack. He thanked Allah for his gift of allowing them to find the man they were searching for. Now they could finish this and he could go home to his family. He felt happy for the first time since they'd fled the American compound.

Afzal retrieved the radio from beneath his robe and switched it on, hailing their home base. "This is Afzal. I need a jeep and some men. Tell Abdul Al-Rashid we have found one of the American helicopter pilots that was involved in the destruction of our Mi-35."

The line was silent, static reaching his ears. He began to wonder if he'd been heard until Al-Rashid's voice filled the line, the tone cool and smooth. _"It is about time you checked in, Afzal."_

"We had to hunt down the survivor, Al-Rashid. The other perished in the crash," Afzal replied submissively, suppressing the urge to lash out which would easily be taken as disrespect and handled accordingly. He needed to keep his place until the time was right.

" _Did you take care of Hamad?"_ Al-Rashid inquired darkly, clearly in no mood for paltry excuses.

"The American got to him first. Hamad is dead as you requested," Afzal informed him. "I need a truck sent, Al-Rashid." He could almost see the frown form on his leader's face from the silence that followed his request for a vehicle. The response surprised him.

" _Very well, Afzal. You will have your vehicle and some men. Do not slip up again. Find out what we want to know from the American and dispose of him."_

"Understood, Al-Rashid," Afzal replied, confidence in his voice. "We...argh!" he cried out, the radio falling to the sand with a dull thud, the transmission severed.

As'ad, eyes wide with panic as he recoiled away from the sudden onset of commotion, waved the muzzle of his AK at every little movement.

Afzal, recovering from the initial shock of having a blade rammed into his leg, swiftly kicked the American in the abdomen in rebuttal, causing the man to curl in on himself. "Bastard!" he spat angrily.

As'ad stood as though frozen at the sight of the knife sticking out of Afzal's leg, his face awash with shock and fear at the events playing out before him. He gathered enough presence of mind to point his rifle at the foreigner's writhing body, finger twitching as it hovered on the trigger. One small move and he'd easily command the gun to jump and answer.

"No!" Afzal barked at his friend as he pushed the barrel of the rifle away from its current target, the muzzle pointing away from the no longer conscious man. "Don't shoot him. We need him alive."

He reached down and pulled the knife from his leg, raising it to revel at the sight of his own blood. The bright crimson dripped down the shiny surface, the droplets trailing a line down his fingers. He tore his gaze away to scrutinize the American's unconscious form. "His time will come."

As'ad quickly nodded as he took a few steps away from the body as though afraid the man would suddenly spring to life once more, swiftly killing both of them. His eyes were drawn to Afzal's bleeding leg. "You need to stop the blood flow, Afzal," he advised unnecessarily, glancing around them. "How soon until we have our truck? We need to get out of here while we still can."

Afzal, hopped up on the rush of adrenaline and greed, absently nodded at the suggestion. He was so close to finishing his mission. This would be the start of his legacy. He reached down to pick up the radio, realizing he'd just hung up on Abdul Al-Rashid. He stared at the device, mind conjuring up the right words to say to his leader before reestablishing a connection. Ineptness was not the picture he'd set out to paint.

Drawing in a breath he pressed the button. "We had an issue that has been temporarily dealt with, Al-Rashid. I apologize for the interruption," he uttered humbly. The line was silent, and he could feel the scrutiny over his abilities. He decided to repeat his earlier question, despite already garnering a reply.

"We require transport to take our captive out of the desert to Khash."

Al-Rashid's reply was devoid of any emotion; neither congratulatory nor reprimanding. _"You will have your vehicle. It is being readied."_

Afzal nodded even though the older man couldn't see him. "Thank you Al-Rashid. We will not fail."

The line went dead as Al-Rashid terminated the connection without any further preamble. Afzal sighed and looked at As'ad. "That went well," he commented sarcastically.

As'ad gestured to Afzal's leg. "You should fix that before they get here." He indicated the battered, weathered body lying unmoving beside them. "I can keep an eye on him."

Afzal looked at his friend, evaluating his state of nerves. After a moment he nodded, satisfied. He took off one of the long, lightweight cloths he had about his neck, folded it and haphazardly wrapped it around his leg, tying it off snugly. He sucked in a breath at the pain, eyes narrowing as he looked over at the foreigner. He would be sure to make the man regret ever coming to his country. He looked at As'ad, eyes dark. "Now we wait."

* * *

 **TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks to everyone who has been sticking with this story, and for the follows and favs. Appreciate those that take the time to leave a review. Means a lot.**

 **Thanks to my wonderful beta- this story keeps going because of her help and encouragement. Many hugs, my friend.**

 **The uploader/editing page was messing with my way of doing a section break. I did the best I could.**

 **Usual disclaimer applies. I do this for fun only.**

 **Hope everyone enjoys.**

 **Season opener tonight :)**

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 **"I** really hope Steve came this way," Danny started, breaking the tense silence that had descended over the team like a suffocating blanket ever since they left the cave.

"There's a small town north of here, called Khash. It's on the outskirts of the desert," Brick replied with a glance at the detective. "No doubt he's still walking on this path, and if that's the case he'll be headed right for it." His expression was tenebrous. "Let's hope we get to him first."

Danny pursed his lips, his face a plethora of emotions. He wouldn't rest until his partner was physically beside him, safe and sound. He hoped there was an ending in sight to this mission that's been a crap shoot from the start. He could tell that Brick was holding something back, could sense the uncharacteristic hesitation in the large man's voice when the latter mentioned the town. He chose not to dwell on it. Whatever it was, he was sure Brick would tell them about it, sooner or later. Right now their priority, their _only_ priority was Steve.

Their jeep crested a dune, and not far ahead a few erratic rocks came into view, their shapeless formations littering the terrain, having been haphazardly deposited by Mother Nature. There appeared to be movement near a small cluster of rocks, the motions quick and abrupt.

Chin narrowed his eyes in an attempt to gain a better view of the objects ahead. "You guys see those rocks down in the valley? I think I see something there," he questioned over the comms, a hint of hope lining his words.

Danny stiffened as he raised himself up in his seat, as though making his stance taller would garner him a better look. "Is it Steve?"

"Hold up, team," Fox instructed as he slowed to a stop, slamming the gearbox into park.

Brick rolled Echo team's vehicle alongside his Commanding Officer's and retrieved a pair of binoculars from under his seat. "What are we dealing with?" he asked Fox, who had already donned a pair for himself, and was scanning the area ahead.

Kono bit her lip, exchanging a worried glance with Grover before turning her attention back to the faraway rocks.

"Looks like two people," Fox reported a moment later.

Brick had his binoculars to his eyes at the comment, his face twisting with recognition. "Got you, you bastards," he growled, looking as though he wanted to run down there right now and beat the life out of them with his bare hands.

"Easy, Sergeant," Fox said coolly. "We'll have time to have a nice 'chat' shortly."

"Any sign of Steve?" Danny pressed, anxious for any news that would lead to rescuing his partner. He could barely contain himself, and the information was coming in way too slowly for his liking.

Brick handed his pair of binoculars to the blond. "Have a look."

Danny grabbed the offered binoculars and raised them to his eyes. His stomach churned with nerves over what he might glean from having a look, but his desire to know drastically outweighed his apprehension.

He watched the two men for a moment, deciding they looked like they were waiting for something. Or someone. "I can't tell what they're up to," he said with irritation. "Those rocks are making it hard to see what's going on."

"If they're waiting, maybe they've found Steve," Chin offered, his expression tight.

Danny glanced at Chin, his expression filled with unease. He dreaded to think what the implications of that scenario might be.

"Sir, we need to make our move. Regardless of whether or not they have the Commander, we need to take them out," Brick advised, his tone harsh but not disrespectful.

Brad held up a hand as he nodded, unperturbed by his Sergeant's bluntness.

"Noted, Brick. I understand your desire to get these guys. I'm sure everyone here feels the same way. However," he added before Brick could object. "I want to be certain of what we're dealing with. If they do have Steve, I don't want to provoke them into killing him if they see us charging down there like angry bulls."

Brick nodded reluctantly, acknowledging the wisdom of his Commanding Officer's words.

Danny anxiously continued to watch the scene play out below him. The two men were definitely trying to move something heavy, and the hollow pit that had been forming in his stomach grew when he caught a glimpse of a leg. He'd know those cargos anywhere. "Shit, shit. Guys, they have him… they've got Steve." He stared in heightened anticipation at the commotion that seemed to be growing in the valley, his nerves taught.

Fox quickly brought the binoculars back to his eyes, his semi-relaxed demeanor changing to alert as though a switch had been flipped, and his adrenaline level grew. "Change of plans."

On the near horizon, a plume of dust rose like a cloud of smoke from a burning fire, and no one needed binoculars to see the signs of a rapidly approaching vehicle.

"Here's the welcoming party," Lou said sarcastically as he watched the dust cloud grow larger as the truck got closer.

"They were waiting for extract," Brick snarled, dumping the binoculars into the back seat. He fired up the jeep, the engine drowning out any regular non-comms chatter. "Everyone get ready to rock," he snapped into the mic.

When Fox started the vehicle, Danny watched Kono perform a quick ammo check on her MP7. He'd wished Kono had her sniper rifle, as he knew she could have easily taken out the enemy from here, and provided cover for the rest of them. Taking her lead he checked his magazine count, his sweaty fingers fumbling with the dust-covered hardware.

"We can't let them escape with Steve," Lou yelled into the comms over the revving of engines and the readying of equipment.

"And we're not going to," Fox assured them. "We're going in hot. Check your fire and choose your shots. We don't want to risk hitting Steve with a stray."

Brick floored the gas pedal and the jeep leapt forwards, causing Danny and Chin to reflexively grab the door sill for support.

Danny exchanged a worried glance with Chin, his own fear over the possible outcome reflecting clearly in the other man's eyes. Chin gripped his shoulder in unwavering support, and yelled over the roaring of the engines, forgoing the comm.

"We'll bring him home, brah."

Danny nodded gratefully at his friend's ability to stay positive, and he gripped his M4 tightly, the adrenaline rushing through his body as he prepared himself for the upcoming firefight, hoping for the best case scenario.

Fox pulled his jeep alongside Brick's, and they crested the dune in tandem, the six occupants ready for whatever awaited them over the ridge.

 **5-0**

 **5-0**

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 **T** he approaching truck heading southbound towards As'ad and Afzal's location carried four men, all dressed in drab, loose fitting clothing, three of them clearly brandishing AK-47's. Two occupied the single cab space, with the other two taking station in the pickup's bed.

One of the men in the back was kneeling, while the other stood, manning a PKM LMG that was attached to a fixed turret emplacement platform mounted to the truck bed.

Afzal stood when he saw their truck approaching, and he roughly grabbed the American's arm. "Help me get him up, As'ad."

As'ad exuberantly waved an arm at the men in the truck to flag them down, although it was quite clear they'd already been seen, as the truck was already heading right for their position. "They brought the big guns, Afzal," he said in relief as he began to assist in carrying their captive's unconscious body.

The truck was almost on top of them before doing a U-turn, the bed falling open with a bang, ready to accept more passengers. Engine noise caught Afzal's attention, the loud roaring growing steadily louder with each passing second and he felt a sudden sense of urgency.

No. His plan would not be foiled. There were vehicles approaching and it didn't take a rocket scientist to work out who was now hot on their tail, nipping at their heels like wolves after prey, hungry for blood. Theirs.

As'ad, noting the change in Afzal's demeanor quickly donned an expression of panic, eyes wide at the realization they were about to be attacked. He roughly manhandled the American's right arm, shoving the tall man towards the waiting grip of the AK gunner.

Afzal stumbled in his attempt to keep up with his nerve wracked friend, his leg hindering his progress. He gave their quarry one last shove towards the bed, urging the AK gunner with a frantic wave of his arm to hurry up and help.

He quickly glanced over his shoulder to see two jeeps cresting the dune, and he cursed angrily as they barreled down on his position, the sand billowing like an angry red cloud in their wake. He clambered into the truck bed, his leg throbbing from the stab wound the American had inflicted. How could he have been so stupid to let his guard down? Clearly this person was a resilient man, and he growled angrily at his own ineptness. If Al-Rashid knew he would think him a fool.

As'ad crawled in after his friend, unceremoniously tossing his backpack down. He clutched his AK for dear life, eyes wide as he looked around wildly, frozen in time, fear etched into his features. He was used to being the bully with the locals, their fear of Al-Rashid's wrath keeping them docile. He'd had little experience with those who would fight back, or any form of combat.

"Fire! Fire!" Afzal yelled over the roar of the approaching engines, and he leaned over, grabbing the tailgate and hauling it up till it snagged the latches. He stayed low, allowing the two men in the truck bed to cover them. He glanced at As'ad, noting the other man's crazed eyes, and jumpy movements. He hoped that the man would do what needed to be done when pressed, or he feared that his friend would get himself or someone else killed.

The PKM gunner needed little persuasion to open fire, and he pulled the trigger, the large gun spitting 7.62 rounds at the jeeps like a fire breathing dragon that dared anyone to be stupid enough to oppose it.

The AK rifleman had dropped the captive in favour of his gun, and he stayed low in the bed, popping up to join in the chorus of bullets as he fired off short bursts. Afzal, wanting to protect his precious cargo, quickly moved to shove the American to the front of the truck, just behind the feet of the PKM gunner.

 **5-0**

 **5-0**

 **5-0**

 **"S** hit!" Brick yelled, not having noticed the emplacement gun when the truck was first approaching, the mount having been obscured by the cab. "LMG!"

"Evasive maneuvers!" Fox hollered before cranking the wheel to the left, the jeep struggling to gain purchase in the sand as it leaned roughly to the right, the body roll accenting the aggressive command to turn.

Kono and Lou were roughly thrown to the side, both grabbing the seat for bodily support, and they tried to keep their heads down so they weren't taken off by the high powered machine gun.

"Fox!" Kono yelled despite herself, her surprise over the appearance of the large caliber gun clear in her voice.

"Working on it." Brad kept the jeep steady, as he made a beeline for cover.

Brick tore Echo team's jeep harshly to the right, splitting off from Vulture team's jeep like a well-practiced synchronization act. Two separate targets were harder to hit.

Chin and Danny got as low as they could in their seats, the rounds tracking straight through the air over their heads with a high pitched whine. Return fire was the last thing on their minds while the LMG's attention seemed to be fixated on their position.

Fox wheeled their jeep through a small cluster of rocks, his path looking more like a slalom run than evasive maneuvers. The whizzing sound of bullets zipping past was unmistakable, some of the slugs pinging off nearby rocks as they sent shards exploding into the air. He hit the brakes hard, nearly tossing Lou over the small windshield. "Take cover!"

Fox, Kono and Lou rushed out of the jeep, using the vehicle's body and nearby rocks for protection as they took up spread out positions, each of them peeking out to take pot shots when viable, trying to avoid being hit, or accidentally hitting Steve in the process.

 **5-0**

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 **A** s'ad, overwhelmed and afraid for his life, cowered as he lay in the truck with his arms over his head as he was showered with hot brass from the growling machine gun. The American lay unconscious beside As'ad, oblivious to the mayhem and chaos erupting around him.

"Afzal! We need to get out of here now!" he yelled over the gunfire.

"No! This is our chance to eliminate our pursuers for good, and show Al-Rashid what we are capable of!" Afzal roared, his crazed desire clouding his rational judgment. "Fire back at the people by the rocks, damnit!"

When As'ad made no motions to assist, Afzal cursed his cowardly friend's nerves under pressure. He ignored the pain from his wounded leg as he roughly handled his gun, and he assisted the AK gunner as he fired a volley at the directed location in an attempt to keep them pinned down.

They continued to pepper the group taking cover behind the rocks, while the PKM gunner turned his attention to the target still out in the open. The second jeep.

 **5-0**

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 **5-0**

 **"B** rick, get us out of here!" Danny yelled over the sound of the gunfire, his voice nearly lost in the din.

"I'm trying!" Brick had little options for protection, and the PKM gunner's attention seemed to be fixated on their location now that Kono, Lou and Brad were more or less under cover. The large, clumsily weaving target was like prey to a lioness, and the LMG wanted to feed.

Chin fired at the gunner, his aim difficult to control in a rapidly swerving vehicle, and he tried to keep his body low to avoid being hit.

The hail of bullets continued, and the LMG finally managed to punch a few holes into the engine compartment of Brick's jeep, and the vehicle coughed as it lost power. The block had definitely been hit. Cursing, Brick cranked the wheel and used what remained of their momentum to turn the jeep broadside to the target, effectively providing them with cover.

Chin, Danny and Brick hastily crawled out the passenger side doors, rifles clutched close to their bodies as they made a speedy exit. The chassis rang with the sound of impacting bullets, the metallic pings sharp in Danny's ears.

"Doesn't this guy ever have to reload?" Danny yelled in disbelief.

"Not for a while with a drum that large," Brick hollered over the noise, as he peered up over the frame of the jeep to pinpoint the location of the gunner. "We're pinned down unless we want to risk taking a round, and randomly blind firing back might accidentally hit Steve."

"Since they have Steve, why haven't they just driven away?" Chin yelled, confusion on his sweat laden face.

"Greed….," Brick loudly stated. "Stupidity, inexperience. Either way, we need to turn the tables and use that to our advantage!"

Danny and Chin exchanged frustrated, worried, fearful gazes. They were concerned for their own safety as well as that of Steve. Neither of them knew how they were going to get out of this, let alone rescue their friend.

"Getting hot over here, Vulture Team," Brick relayed over the comms. "Take out that emplacement weapon, God damn it, or we're going to be swiss cheese over here. I don't know how many more shots this jeep can take for us."

"Copy that," Lou grunted in reply. "We've got some heat on our location. Kono? Time to do what you do best."

"I'm on it," Kono replied. "Cover me guys!" She flicked her SMG from fully auto to single shot, and peered out from the rock she was using for protection.

"You got it sistah," Grover confirmed as he popped out from the right side of the jagged rocks, his gun barking as he laid down fire in the enemy's direction.

Fox leaned out from the left side of the rock that he was sharing with Grover, assisting in the barrage of fire. "You've got your cover. Take the shot!"

One of the men and the AK gunner took cover in the bed in an attempt to avoid the return fire coming from Fox and Lou, allowing just the momentary disruption that Kono required.

She took a deep breath, and steadied her MP7. Although her sniper rifle would be better suited for the job, her distance to the target was such that her skillset and accuracy of the little SMG would make this shot a piece of cake. Exhaling, she lined the PKM gunner's head up, dead center of her scope's crosshairs, and pulled the trigger.

The round hit its intended target with precision, and the PKM gunner's head snapped back, his body dropping to the pickup bed's floor like a sack of potatoes.

The hail of bullets peppering Chin, Danny, and Brick's location ceased, allowing the three men some respite and the opportunity to offer some return fire.

 **5-0**

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 **A** s'ad yelled when the gunner's dead body fell on top of him, and he quickly attempted to shove the oppressive weight off his back.

No longer having the emplacement gun to protect them, Afzal altered his priorities from eliminating his pursuers, to escaping with his quarry. They needed more cover fire, and they needed it now. "Get us out of here!" he yelled as he clambered back to his knees, blind firing randomly in both directions. "As'ad, fire back you coward!"

As'ad shoved the PKM gunner's body off of his back as he groped for his rifle, blind firing over the side towards the enemies hiding behind the immobilized jeep. He did so only out of self-preservation, and judging by the murderous look in his friend's eyes, he thought that Afzal might be the one to kill him if he didn't comply.

The pickup began to move, sand flinging out from behind it as the tire treads kicked it into the air.

 **5-0**

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 **"N** o, no, no!" Danny roared over the gunfire when he saw the truck start to move. Hastily he popped up over the hood of the jeep and began firing at the retreating vehicle, trying to hit a tire. Not an easy feat with the flying sand providing the perfect cover, and the incoming bullets keeping him partially occupied.

The passenger of the pickup thrust his AK out the window, his face a mask of indifference as he fired a burst of assisting cover fire towards Danny's location.

Danny, his vision tunneling as he desperately tried to hit the rear tire, didn't notice the new threat appear, and fortunately for him the passenger's aim was inaccurate. The 7.62 rounds peppered the front quarter panel of their jeep with repetitive thuds, the errant bullets zinging by his and Brick's ears.

Brick, hearing the familiar whizzing instinctively took cover, but before Danny could follow suit an errant round breezed past him, managing to graze the blond's arm, leaving a bloody trail in its wake.

The contact caught a desperate Danny by surprise, and he grunted as he dropped down behind cover. "Shit," he ground out as Brick moved over to him. "Nevermind me, I'm fine. Don't let them take Steve!"

Chin glanced worriedly at Danny, but when Brick offered a quick, reassuring nod, he popped up over the hood of their disabled jeep. In the midst of the random, spray and pray bullets zinging around him, he was able to fire a few rounds at the truck's passenger who was carelessly sticking his head out of the window as though admiring his work.

One of Chin's rounds hit its mark, and the Afghani man's rifle tumbled to the sand as his head was forced back inside the cab with the velocity of the bullet, his arm hanging lifelessly out of the window.

The enemy combatants stayed low, randomly firing at Echo and Vulture team's locations likely in hopes that it would give them enough cover fire to get away. The team figured that the bad guys were banking on the fact that they would use caution when they returned fire, fearful they might injure their friend.

"Kono….the tire!" Chin yelled into his mic, urging his eagle-eyed cousin to take the shot before it was too late.

"Lou, I need suppressive fire. Kono, take the shot." Fox ordered, his voice firm. He knew he could handle the AK gunner, and he waited until he heard the sound of Grover's rifle before he leaned out and zeroed in on the crouched man who was attempting to avoid Lou's shots.

As hoped, the enemy men instantly took cover, and the bullets from Grover's M4 disturbed the air where their heads used to be.

Fox fired a burst at the AK gunner, one of his bullets striking the man in the shoulder close to his upper arm. The man's body shifted to the side with the force of the impact, and he stumbled into the prone form of one of his associates, losing his balance. The gunner was unable to recover as his weight continued to transfer uncontrollably towards the pickup bed's side, his body tumbling out like a useless trash bag that had been separated from a load in the back of a garbage hauler.

The occupants of the truck clearly had no intent on stopping to retrieve their associate, as the vehicle continued to drive away until a loud bang permeated the air, the rear tire blowing with the force of a small airbag deployment. Kono, looking through her scope, allowed herself a smile as she watched the truck lumber to a stop, her shot having handily sliced through the hard rubber.

"Nice work, cuz," Chin applauded, happy that they finally had a break.

The gunfire had abruptly stopped, the quiet feeling foreign after the raging gun battle that had been dominating the normally uninhabited Dashti Margo.

 **5-0**

 **5-0**

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 **"A** fzal….," As'ad uttered as he lay in the back of the pickup as if frozen in time, afraid that any movement would set off an invisible bomb. "What do we do? We'll all be killed!"

"Quiet. I'm thinking," Afzal snapped, causing his friend to slam his mouth shut. "No one make any sudden moves." He peered over the bed of the pickup truck, dark eyes quickly scanning the scene before him. The team of enemies had the upper hand at this point, and it was apparent to Afzal that they knew it, as each of the visible people had their weapons firmly trained on his position.

"Afzal….," As'ad tried once more.

"I said quiet," Afzal growled angrily, and his friend recoiled in fear. He needed time to think. Time that he knew he didn't have. At any moment he was sure that whoever was the American team's leader would announce their demands, and request his and As'ad's surrender.

He couldn't have that. Not now. He was so close to completing his task, that the very thought of failure angered him. He would find a way. He _had_ to find a way.

The quiet surrounding him was like a ticking clock, counting down the seconds until his time ran out. His determined gaze fell upon each of the people in the pickup's bed, finally landing on his American prisoner. He thanked Allah's silent guidance and his mouth upturned in satisfaction. He had the bargaining chip he needed right in front of him.

"I have just the plan, As'ad," he finally assured his friend. "I have just the plan."

 **5-0**

 **5-0**

 **5-0**

 **K** ono, Lou, and Chin all had their weapons trained on the inert pickup, the 5-0 members waiting for Fox to take control of the situation. They didn't have to wait long.

Fox leaned out from his cover position, his HK416 pointed at the truck, voice hard and demanding as it permeated the stillness. "You're out of options. Surrender now, and hand over our man."

Wincing as Brick poked at his wound, Danny locked eyes with the big man at the sound of Brad's voice. The stakes were high, and it took everything he had not to shove Brick aside and run over to the truck, grabbing Steve, and getting out of his hellhole. "What's happening?"

"Shhhh," Brick quieted him as he peered over the jeep to get an idea on what the situation was like. He had a feeling he would find out soon enough. No movement was coming from the rear of the vehicle, and at first he thought that the two yahoos they'd been chasing had been killed. His hopes were dashed when a heavily accented voice filled the air.

"You're wrong, American. It is you who are out of options," a voice announced matter-of-factly.

The confidence dripping from the words had a small pit forming in Brad's stomach, and he glanced at the ground taking note of the man he'd shot. The gunner's weapon was not in reach nor was the man making any moves to obtain it. He returned his attention to the men in the truck, neither of whom had shown themselves. "Not the way I see it. Now I won't ask again. Hand over our man."

Fox wasn't sure what the Afghani man was planning, and he was at a loss as to why the voice sounded so comfortable in what looked to him like a no-win situation. He was about to repeat his demands when suddenly one of the enemy men stood up, causing him to tighten his grip on his rifle.

Years of experience allowed Brad to assess the situation before firing, which was fortunate given that the Afghani man had his rifle trained on an unconscious Steve, who'd been roughly hauled up by one arm. "Hold your fire!" He commanded over the comms to his team, knowing that some of them would have itchy trigger fingers. And rightfully so.

The muzzle of the AK-47 was pointed at the SEAL's head, and the man holding the weapon who was clearly the Afghani group's leader spoke once more. "You see I have the leverage. The bargaining chip. Let us leave or witness your man die in front of you."

"What? No. You have to stop him," Danny argued as he tried to shove Brick out of the way, his fear dictating his actions, all logic gone. The large man's grip increased, but Danny had still managed to nab an opportunity to gain a look at his partner before he was pushed back down behind cover. His friend looked bad, and his concern over whether or not Steve would make it out of this alive grew. The sun-burned skin, the deathly pallor of his partner's face. The blood. He thought back to the cave and the bandage in his pocket and he felt a chill wash over him despite the intense heat.

" _Fox..."_ Brad heard Lou's voice in his ear, the tone edgy and worried. There was only one decision to make, and he knew the 5-0 team wouldn't like it one bit. The fact that McGarrett's life was on the line here and now propelled him to make the difficult choice. He watched the hard look in the enemy leader's dark eyes, the determination, and the twitch of a trigger finger just waiting for someone to make a move, and it would be game over for them.

While there was a possibility that Kono could take the shot, there was no element of surprise and too much at stake. Clearly there was something driving the dark-bearded man, and while it was obvious the two men went to a lot of trouble to track down Steve, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't execute McGarrett now, simply because it suited them. It's a gamble he wasn't willing to take, and right now his chips were all in, and he didn't know whether the enemy had the better hand.

"Lower your weapons," he reluctantly ground out to the team. When he didn't hear the movement of equipment, he raised his voice. "I said lower your weapons, teams."

The 5-0 team slowly lowered their guns, each of them hesitant to do so, but complying with the order. They watched with disbelief at the events unfolding before them, the ball of yarn that was this firefight becoming unraveled. So close.

The Afghani man's mouth upturned into a gloating, exulted smirk and he called out to the driver in Pashto. "Drive. Carefully." Fox knew that the blown tire would slow them down, but with the upper hand, they had all the time in the world to get away. He ground his teeth in displeasure.

"We'll be seeing you," Fox promised as he heard the truck's engine come to life, his eyes boring holes into the forehead of the enemy leader as he watched the pickup slowly lurch forward, and hobble over the dune. There was no attempt to rescue their associate, and he saw the gunner's body slowly twitching as it writhed around in the sand.

The team watched helplessly as the truck vanished over the hill with their friend, the retreating dust cloud like a thick fog that cast a veil of defeat over their hopes of ever getting Steve back.

* * *

 **TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks to everyone for sticking with me on this story. Thanks for all the follows and favs, and I appreciate those that take the time to leave a review.**

 **Huge, warm thanks to my beta. You'll always be my very own Danno. :)**

 **Usual disclaimer applies.**

 **Hope everyone enjoys.**

* * *

Chapter 15

 **F** ox watched the truck vanish over the horizon, his face an expressionless mask. "Everyone ok?" he questioned gruffly across the comms.

"All good here," Lou replied, voice flat.

"Same," Kono announced, tightness in her voice. It was clear by her tone that she was far from good emotionally. She shouldered her MP7, and glanced around, taking stock of their situation.

Brick's gruff voice came over the line. "Chin and I are fine, Sir. Danny's been grazed, but it's nothing that I can't patch up here with what I have." There was a pause, then Brick added unhappily, "Can't say the same for our transport though. That PKM did a number on it. Its status is KIA."

"Copy that, Sergeant," Fox confirmed. He looked over towards where the Afghani gunner lay once the man had fallen out of the moving truck. It was clear that he was still alive, and was crawling in a lame attempt to get away, heading in the direction the pickup had retreated.

"Look after Danny," Brad instructed. "We're going to go have a little chat with our new friend over here."

"On it, Fox," Brick replied, frustration over the situation bleeding through his tone of voice. He obviously wanted to be the one asking the questions. This was the second time those same two men got away on his watch.

"Good," Brad acknowledged, picking up on his man's irritation. "I need everyone at their best for what we got coming. Get to it."

H50

H50

H50

H50

 **D** anny shrugged off Brick's ministrations with an irritated swat of his good arm. "I'm fine," he grumbled. "We need to go find Steve, not waste time here," he added, jabbing his finger in the direction the truck had gone.

Chin approached his friend, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Danny, that graze is bleeding pretty good. Let Brick patch you up…. Please."

Danny snorted, his voice filled with anger and hopelessness. "And who's going to patch up Steve, huh? We come all this way to find him, only to lose him all over again." Visions of his partner, his friend; sun burned, weather-beaten and bleeding played back in his mind as clear as if he were seeing it all over again. Like an image frozen in time, he couldn't get the picture out of his head. He felt as though this were a nightmare- only it wasn't a nightmare, was it? No, he was living this hell-driven dream in real time, and he wanted nothing more than for it to end.

End with all of them back home in Hawaii, safe and sound, laughing over a longboard. He closed his eyes in an attempt to make it all go away.

Brick exchanged a hesitant glance with Chin, his hands hovering just above Danny's arm as though he were afraid to touch the blond for fear of setting the fiery man off. He nodded at Chin, silently asking him for direction.

Chin closed the gap and placed a gentle hand on Danny's right shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Danny cracked his eyes open, the emotional and physical pain unmistakable in his baby blues. "You need to let Brick look after you, so you can look after Steve. He needs you, and you need to be at full strength," he advised, voice almost hypnotic. "Nothing good will come of us rushing in after him. We need to regroup."

Danny locked eyes with Chin, and he could see his worry and fear mirrored back at him. The older man was feeling the strain just as much as he was, and that realization deflated his initial anger like a balloon with a slow leak. His shoulders slumped. "Sorry, Chin. I just….,"

"It's ok brah," the Hawaiian assured him with one final pat on the shoulder. He nodded at Brick, indicating it was ok for him to continue looking after Danny's wound.

Brick retrieved a roll of white gauze from his pack that he'd pulled out of the beaten-up jeep. Gently rolling up Danny's sleeve he began to treat the graze. "This is pretty deep, but you'll live," he quietly observed.

The large man's ability to be this gentle surprised Danny, and it was a stark reminder never to judge a book by its cover. He watched the man work, and wondered how many times Brick had to fix up his own team members. His friends. For having only known Brick a short time, Danny felt surprisingly comfortable around him. Now he understood how people could become close while dealing with adversity. Besides that, there was a fierce loyalty that emanated from the big man- reminded him of Steve.

Shawn's gruff voice penetrated his thoughts. "I understand your frustration, Danny."

Danny waved a hand in the air lazily, blue eyes clouding over with anguish. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Brick's eyes softened as he nodded in understanding. "As much as is needed to get Commander McGarrett home," he stated matter-of-factly, no judgment in his tone.

Danny's gaze met Brick's and he could see the inner turmoil storming around in the big man's eyes. Something screamed of deep familiarity, and he cast his gaze to the side and nodded.

Brick began wrapping the gauze around Danny's upper arm, a faraway look in his eyes. Danny had a feeling the man's mind was anywhere but here. When Brick started talking again, Danny knew he was right in that thought.

"Three years ago there was this op we were on," Brick began, surprising Danny with the offering of personal information. "We were doing this thing…. Well this high value target was spotted and reportedly holed up in a remote area north of here. We had a capture or kill order out, and Fox sent me and my team in."

He paused, staring at the white fabric of the gauze in his hand as though he were seeing the memory play out before him on the material.

"Long story short, the mission went south due to poor intel, and one of my team was captured. Me and my remaining men acquired his location and went in hell-bent-for-leather. Let our emotions cloud our judgment. We rushed in and he was executed."

Danny sighed, and watched Brick fiddle with the bandage material as it was secured around his arm. He had a feeling that Shawn was carrying a huge weight on his shoulders. He hadn't realized how close this situation had hit home for the guy.

"My team and I were held prisoner, and we were 'pressed' for information. That was our first glimpse of Abdul Al-Rashid, and his influence on this area. Samir, the man who we met back in Lashkar Gah…. he spent some time in the area, and managed to tell one of our nearby units, who informed Fox, and eventually we were rescued," Brick's eyes met Danny's.

"I owe my life to Samir, and his willingness to take chances and stand up against scumbags like Rashid. We never gave up, and neither will Steve," Brick absentmindedly stuffed the medical supplies back into his pack.

"And neither will we," Chin offered, and Danny started, having nearly forgotten the older man was there.

Danny nodded and blew out a breath, his anger at the situation replaced with a sympathetic understanding. Brick had been here before, and knew the cost of not being careful. He nearly paid for it with his own life all because of some local bullies with big guns.

"I'm sorry, Brick."

Brick waved a dismissive hand. "Shit happens. It's how we deal with it that influences the final outcome."

"Must have been difficult," Chin said quietly.

"I've lived with it ever since," Shawn said, the earlier soul-baring emotions being buried once more. "Listen I didn't tell you that story to scare you. I just want you to realize that when dealing with radical people like these guys, every action we take needs to be sound and emotionally neutral. Or bad things happen."

" _We've got a lead on Steve's possible location, Echo team. Rally on us,"_ Fox's voice broke through the comms.

Brick slung his pack over his left shoulder, and handed Danny his M4 before retrieving his own HK416, which he'd set down before treating the blond's wound.

Danny took the offered gun with a nod, and he gingerly picked up his own pack, the movement aggravating the injury to his bicep. He was stressed to the max, and his worry combined with the desert heat was slowly wearing down what little that remained of his resolve. He took Brick's words to heart, and he vowed that he would go to the ends of the earth as long as his mind and body were able, if it meant bringing Steve home.

Chin patted the detective on the shoulder. "Let's go see what they found out, brah," he offered with a small smile of encouragement.

Danny nodded solemnly. He knew this was just as difficult for Chin as it was for him, and he welcomed the older man's comfort, allowing the positive waves to surround him like a security blanket.

They followed Brick, who had already made his way over to where Lou, Fox and Kono were waiting.

H50

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H50

H50

 _Moments ago…_

Fox, Kono and Lou approached the man who had the unfortunate pleasure of being left behind, and who was now at the mercy of the enemy.

They stopped next to the prone man, who paused in his feeble attempt to get away to glance up at them.

"You goin' somewhere?" Lou casually asked as he placed his large boot on top of the man's bloody arm, eliciting a groan.

Kono walked over and picked up the fallen AK that the man had been attempting to reach. "You won't be needing this anymore," she said, anger boiling just below the surface of her sand-covered face.

Fox kneeled down, knee digging into the soft brown sand as he leaned in conspiratorially. "So what's Abdul Al-Rashid's interest in our man?" He said in Pashto, firm tone void of compunction. He had no plans on negotiating with this individual, a lesson he was sure he would need to teach.

The reply was a snarl as the man looked up at Brad and spat in the Captain's face.

Unperturbed, Brad rubbed his hand against his cheek, leaving a wet streak through the stuck-on dirt. His voice took on more of a threatening edge, blue eyes cold. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear," he started as he removed a combat knife from a sheathe on the back of his vest and began fondling the blade.

Fox felt Kono shift beside him, but she said nothing to stop what was his obvious intent.

"You'd best answer the man, compadre," Grover advised.

The Afghani man laughed and tried to pull his arm out from under Lou's foot. "I don't tell you anything," he said in broken English.

"Oh so you do understand," Grover said, eyebrows raised in mock indignation.

Fox glanced back at Echo team, noting Brick looked to be busy tending to Danny. His gaze returned to the subject of his ire, knife wielding hand moving closer to the Afghani man's shoulder, the blade's tip hovering over the fresh gunshot wound.

"Sure you don't want to tell us what we want to know? I'm sure you know exactly where they're headed."

The man's eyes tracked the blade as it headed towards his wound. He swallowed heavily. After a moment of consideration, he pinned a cool, neutral gaze at Fox. "Kill me, pig," he spat with vehemence.

"I'd listen to him, Captain. I mean, what other use is he to us?" Lou sarcastically advised.

"I could kill him," Fox began before forcing the knife into the bleeding wound, causing a pained cry from the Afghani. "Or I could just ask again in a different way."

Kono cringed slightly at the display, obviously unsure about the direction this was taking. For a moment it looked as though she were going to say something, but after what appeared to be consideration over the situation, she closed her mouth, choosing instead to trust Fox.

"I no…. tell… you," the man painfully said after a moment.

Fox removed the blade with a sigh. "So here's how this works," he began firmly, blue eyes hard with determination. "I know you think you're doing Allah a service here, but get this. You failed. No glory, no lesson, no honourable death. A couple of my team over there," he continued, as he gestured to Brick and Danny with the knife wielding hand, "would love to have a chat with you, and then we'll leave you to your own devices here in this wonderful, sweltering desert."

Brad exhaled as though he were being forced to make a bad decision. He waved the knife in the air. "Once my people ask you 'nicely' we can allow Al-Rashid to get wind of your mistake and he can deal with your sorry ass." He paused to run a thumb down the knife's edge. "Or you could spare yourself some additional pain and just tell us where they took our man. Your choice."

The Afghani man's dark, beady eyes shifted quickly between Brad's steely blue gaze, and up to Grover's towering silhouette looming over him, the bright backdrop adding menace to Lou's stance.

Kono tightly gripped the fallen man's AK, her expression neutral as she quietly awaited the reply. Her slender fingers impatiently fondled the trigger guard as if she were anticipating the wrong reply to Fox's question, her actions adding to the overall pressure of the situation.

The enemy man appeared to be considering his options, and when no answer was quickly forthcoming, Fox moved the knife towards the man's knee, and pressed down. "Time's up."

The sharp blade easily penetrated the pant leg material and the skin beneath it, and blood began to saturate the area. A muffled cry of pain and preceded cussing in Pashto, as the man angrily cursed Fox and his infidel family. It was a short moment later when he finally gave in.

"Very well, pig," the man growled through the pain, and Brad removed the knife, expression expectant.

"They are taking him to Khash for more questions." He met Fox's darkening gaze. "You will be too late to save him," he snarled triumphantly, obviously relishing in the angered frowns that had deepened on their faces.

Fuming at the implication, Kono raised the buttstock of the AK as though she were ready to introduce it to the man's head. Clearly her patience was running thin.

Quickly Fox held up a hand, halting her. "I am also looking for a man who went missing a few weeks ago. Was travelling alone," he added, hoping that there was a slim possibility that this guy may have seen something.

"I know nothing of any man. I say no more," the Afghani man growled, done with the conversation.

Brad removed the knife from the enemy's personal space and returned it to its sheathe on his vest. "Now was that so hard?" he said mockingly as he patted him down in search of a radio. He found no communication devices.

He rose to his full height and looked at Kono and Lou. "Let's get a move on. There's nothing else he is going to tell us, and with that gunshot wound to the shoulder and a now a bum knee. He's not going anywhere. If the desert doesn't get him, Al-Rashid will. He's not our problem anymore."

Fox headed towards the jeep, and Kono and Lou silently fell into step alongside him. He could tell they weren't completely on board with his actions back there, but in this environment, sometimes there was no other choice.

"I know you don't think what I did back there was necessary, but remember it's a different world here, working from a completely different rulebook. Meaning there are no rules. We needed to find out where they took Commander McGarrett, and that was the only way he would even consider talking to us."

Lou exchanged a glance with Kono. "I won't lie and say I thought we were doing the right thing, but I've certainly crossed the line myself recently, so I do understand, Captain. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do."

"Whatever gets the Boss back home, Fox," Kono finally said once they'd reached their jeep. She was clearly carrying a lot of guilt, more than she should be.

Brad placed a comforting hand on her shoulder while he keyed the mike with the other. "We've got a lead on Steve's possible location, Echo team. Rally on us."

H50

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H50

 **B** rick, Danny and Chin tiredly sauntered up to where the rest of the team was waiting by what was now their only operational vehicle.

Brick waved a hand towards the Afghani man's writhing body. "Trouble Sir?" He inquired mildly.

"Yes and no, Shawn," Fox replied as he raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"We know where they've taken Steve," Kono offered, glancing sidelong at Danny who had just come up to stand beside her.

The blond perked up upon hearing the news, and he began to fidget, clearly wanting to get moving. "So where is he?" He prodded worriedly.

"Khash," Fox replied, his voice taking on a slightly different tone as he locked eyes with Brick.

The look had not gone unnoticed by Danny, who noted that this was the second time that the mere mention of the town's name brought on some sort of odd vibe. One that was clearly negative. He was about to prod for information when Chin spoke.

"What about Joe? Did he know anything about where he might be?"

Lou shook his head. "The guy wasn't all that talkative. I think we were lucky we got him to tell us where those guys took McGarrett."

Frustrated, Danny dropped his pack into the jeep with a sigh. His arm was throbbing from the bullet wound, and he promised himself he would use the pain to fuel his determination and resolve to keep it together for Steve's sake. He shoved his hand into his pocket, fingers seeking out the material he'd kept from their stop at the cave.

The blood-stiffened material felt rough against his fingers, and he clutched the fabric, using it to keep him grounded. He pinned Brad and Brick with a concerned, pointed stare, blue eyes silently challenging them to brush his next inquiry off.

"So why aren't we rushing off to rescue Steve, huh? We know where he is," he blurted as he jabbed a finger in a northerly direction. "And why are you two so uptight whenever Khash is mentioned?"

Brick sighed, his brown eyes meeting Danny's intense blue ones. "Danny, Khash is heavily influenced by Al-Rashid's hand," he reluctantly told the smaller man.

Danny threw both hands in the air, the action eliciting a wince as his arm protested the abrupt movement. He was getting tired of what felt like barrier after barrier being erected in front of their path to his partner. "Well that's just great," he announced with irritability. "Every second we wait may be the last one for Steve."

He felt Brick place a large hand on his shoulder, the man's dark eyes probing his own. "I understand, remember?"

Danny nodded quietly. After Shawn had bared a part of his torn, buried soul to him, he took the show of compassion to heart. The thought deflated his slowly boiling anger. "So what are we supposed to do now?"

"We obviously can't waltz into Khash, demand Steve be returned to us and walk out," Chin supplied.

"So what's the plan?" Lou asked, concern plastered onto his face. "I'm not sure I like the thought of Steve in the hands of those goons for much longer."

"We can't conduct this op in the daytime. We'll have to make our move under the cover of darkness," Brad told the group, pinning each individual with an inquisitive stare, obviously knowing that his decision might not be very popular.

Kono looked at her watch and sighed with worry. "That's still four hours from now. I'm not sure the boss has that kind of time."

Brick placed his pack in the jeep, his rifle hanging lazily from its strap around his arm. "They'll want to get information from McGarrett about why he's here. While the added time may not be what Steve needs right now, it will buy us what we need to extract him, hopefully before he's outlived his usefulness to them."

"He's right, guys," Chin solemnly agreed. "They wouldn't have gone through all this trouble just to kill Steve outright. We all know how strong he can be. If anyone can survive, it's him."

"We're of no use to McGarrett if we end up dead, or captured ourselves," Lou added. "As much as I'd like to get Steve our right now, we need to make the smart play here."

Danny, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet, shakily rubbed his hands together as he began to fidget. He sighed in unwilling defeat. He didn't like this at all. His best friend was in the meaty grasp of a guy Danny had no familiarity with, in a country with certain people who would love to parade the dead body of an American in front of the Western world as an example.

His nerves began to get the better of him, and he paced back and forth next to the jeep, his hand returning to his pocket as he sought out the bandage. His idle hand wafted through the air, unanchored.

"So how do we get into this town's compound without this Rashid guy knowing, huh?" He blurted, frustration returning to his voice. "If he's as scummy as you guys suggest, won't someone get wind of us coming? Those guys probably have already said something, and the town is probably locked up tighter than Fort Knox," Danny finished.

Brad nodded at Brick, who took a small notepad and pen from his cargo pants pocket. Brick had a better idea of the area of operations, and was Fox's best source for planning their assault. The man's prior ops had taken him to several areas controlled by Al-Rashid.

Brick took the lead, setting the pad down onto the jeep's hood. The team gathered around him, expectant.

"Here's Khash," he began drawing a large square in the middle of the page. He drew two more lines parallel to each other, perpendicular to the box. "The ring road around the desert runs right through the center of the town. To the east is Lashkar Gah, and to the west is Zaranji. There are sporadic settlements along this road, but only a few are actually listed on any map."

Brick scrawled X's in the far corners of his drawing. "We know from past recon missions of the area that there are sentries patrolling the perimeter, and I doubt that's changed. One false move on our part and these guys are alerted, they'll light us up like Christmas trees and it's game over."

Lou pressed a large finger at the northern most central position, curious. "What about here? You mentioned the guards at the corners. I don't suppose they left some of these areas unprotected?"

Shawn nodded. "That is the best one to exploit. East and west entrances are closely monitored because of the road, and we have to assume someone's been notified of our presence here and they've fortified some positions. Entering from the south is a definite negative."

"This place sounds more like a fortress than a town, Brick," Danny observed, worry lacing his voice. He knew it wasn't going to be easy to get Steve back, and by the sounds of things it was going to be harder than he thought. He only hoped this friend could hold on long enough for them to save him, and end this nightmare.

"Be glad this isn't Al-Rashid's hideout, which our intel has yet to pinpoint," Brick met Danny's concerned gaze. "But in the end, Khash is still only a town. Which means we can use that to our advantage."

"Are we ditching the jeep?" Kono piped in with a determination, and Danny was glad to see that she appeared to be regaining her confidence over this debacle.

"That's an affirmative, Kono," Fox confirmed with a nod. "We'll leave it somewhere out of sight and continue in on foot."

"How are we going to get Steve out? He's going to be too weak to carry too far, and something tells me we'll be making a hasty exit," Danny pointed out.

"I'm sure we'll get ourselves some transportation once inside. If you get my drift," Brick added with a hint of a smirk.

"Ah of course," Danny replied in understanding. Clearly the intent was to steal a vehicle or two, and that suited him just fine. In fact he was sure that would be exactly what Steve would've done. The thought made him smile.

"The short version of the plan," Brick summarized, "is we enter from the north. One inside we split into two teams of three and recon the town for Steve. Do not. I repeat. Do not engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary. If you can neutralize the target silently, proceed and hide the body. Suppressors or not, we're going to get noticed quickly if we open fire and start dropping multiple bodies. The less noise we make, the better it's going to be for us, and for Steve."

Brick paused, making eye contact with each team member. "Remember this could go from being in our control to FUBAR in seconds. I need everyone on the same page. Understood?"

There was silence for a moment as the team processed the path that now lay before them, what was at stake, and what they were about to do. As though speaking telepathically, each of the Five-0 team members nodded in agreement. The decision was an easy one, as Steve would do the same for each and every one of them.

"These guys don't play by any sort of rulebook, so toss yours out the window, ASAP," Fox advised.

"Where's the rendezvous point, Brick? In case this goes to hell and we need to get away quickly," Chin questioned, gesturing to the mini map that the burly man had sketched.

"Once Steve is found, signal the acquisition of the package, and exfil to the east end of town," Fox interjected. "We meet in Lashkar Gah. We lay low until I can make a call back to base and get an extraction team in."

Danny sighed, the scope of what lay ahead tying knots in his stomach. If they made it out of here alive he vowed he was never coming back to this tremulous hellhole. And if they found Joe alive he was going to kill him for getting Steve involved in this.

He ran a hand through his damp, sweaty hair, injured bicep throbbing at the movement. He knew he wasn't being completely fair to Joe, but he couldn't bring himself to go easy on his thoughts about the man. When Steve was home safe and sound only then would he allow himself to pause and reflect.

"I still don't like this," he said uneasily. "Sounds to me like we're walking right into the lion's den without a whip and a chair."

"I don't think we have any other options, Danny," Lou voiced with regret as he met the blond's worried gaze.

Danny's hand that had been nervously moving through his hair moved to wipe his sandy face. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Fox climbed into the driver's seat, before casting a glance at the rest of the group, who stood almost frozen, clearly overwhelmed. "Let's get this done and get our man home, shall we?"

Kono moved to climb into the back seat when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She looked back to see Chin pinning her with a look of concern and perhaps a bit of pride.

"You did good out there, cuz," he praised as he gave her shoulder a light pat.

Kono snorted lightly at the kind words, unconvinced. "Didn't save the boss though, did I," she admonished herself.

"Kono, you're not at fault for what happened to Steve, you know that, right?" Chin encouraged with a hint of a smile.

She absentmindedly fiddled with the fabric of her MP7's strap, eyes downcast as she considered his words.

"Cuz?" Chin prodded when he didn't receive a reply, hand moving to her face as he gently lifted her chin, head lowered so his dark eyes met hers.

After a moment she looked up at him, meeting his gaze and Chin removed his hand from her face. "I know that, Chin. I just... I know I could have done more. If I'd shot the tire sooner, if I..," she stopped, frustrated. "And now he's been taken by those guys. What if we're too late?"

"Steve is strong, and we'll find him. We have before, haven't we?" Chin gave her a gentle nudge indicating she should climb into the back seat. "You did the best you could, and if you hadn't shot that gunner, we all could've been killed. Including Steve. Now, because of you, we're alive and Steve still has a fighting chance."

Kono straightened her shoulders and nodded, determination returning to her eyes, before offering her cousin a small smile of thanks. She climbed into the jeep, sliding to the middle seat so Chin could fit in beside her.

Danny climbed in and sat on Kono's right, mindful of his injured arm. "Are you sure we can all fit in here? I feel like a sardine crammed into a can."

"Unless you've got a better option," Brick countered as he motioned for Lou to get into the jeep. "I'd suck it up. Our other ride isn't going anywhere, ever. Not without some major bodywork and a whole new engine."

"I know this great place is Chicago that can fix up any bullet hole infested vehicle," Lou announced with a smirk as he got into the passenger seat. "For a price, of course. Chicago PD and I busted this nice little black market shop a few years back. They were none too happy to see us of course."

"I get it, I get it," Danny said, hands raised in surrender, grateful for the brief distraction. He put his hat back on his head, pulling it down. "Let's go get Steve before he runs out of time."

Brick sat on the doorframe next to Lou on the passenger side, feet on the small beige coloured running board fastened along the lower part of the jeep's chassis. His left hand hung onto a handle attached to the pillar by the window, his right resting on his rifle, keeping it steady.

"I'm in Captain, let's rock."

Fox fired up the vehicle and headed north towards Khash, and essentially the compound that the two goons had taken Steve to. The sun was on its way towards the horizon, and the intense heat of the day would disappear along with it. They still had a couple of hours before nightfall, and as far as Danny was concerned, it was two hours too many. Hours that Steve might not have.

He returned to his mental lifeline as his hand sought the fabric in his pocket, its presence providing some semblance of closeness to his partner. He sighed as he watched the dust-obscured scenery go by, his mind wandering to thoughts of where Steve was, and what might be happening to him.

Danny knew he'd made a big deal of the fact that he was not a religious man by any means, yet part of him felt like he needed to take a moment to pray for his best friend's survival, and their own safety. Right then there was little else he could do, and at this point, he told himself, they all needed every ounce of help they could get.

* * *

 **TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks to everyone who has fav'd, followed, or taken the time to leave a pm or review. Means a lot, and keeps me and the muse going and writing faster.**

 **Usual disclaimer applies.**

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 **S** teve's foggy, murky mind floated about in an abyss as he slowly began to claw his way back to semi- consciousness. His body's nerve endings sent a myriad of sensations flooding to his brain. Hot, cold, pain, numbness…. thirst. Confusion was next to follow as his overwhelmed mind attempted to make sense of the mess.

He groaned, his dry, cracked lips parting and he tried to quench them, his parched tongue feeling like sandpaper. He found it difficult to swallow, the stagnant hot air around him suffocating in its thickness. His whole body ached, and Steve felt like he'd been run over by a truck. His side was throbbing and burning as if on fire, and he weakly attempted to move his hand to probe the area, only to be stopped by something binding his wrist.

Slowly he tried to move his other arm and legs, finding the same resistance. Weakened by his time in the desert, his conscious mind was slow to process his obvious predicament, and gradually his heart rate began to increase as he rose closer to full consciousness. His eyelids felt as though they were made of lead as he slowly peeled them open with more effort than he'd have liked.

The bright light that he'd been expecting was absent, the room being dimly lit by a lone incandescent bulb that dangled lazily from the concrete ceiling. He let his dim, blue eyes wander as he took in his surroundings.

The room was not large, and there was one door to his left that was closed. A small window was inset at the top of the door, and Steve could see light glowing on the other side. He coughed dryly, the heaving of his body eliciting a stab of pain.

For a brief moment, he thought he'd been captured again by Wo Fat, and he quelled the sudden rise of panic that threatened to overwhelm him. _Wo Fat was dead, wasn't he?_ His fevered mind stumbled over the posed question as he tried to recollect past events. He closed his eyes in fatigue, the simple act of thinking too much for his stressed mind.

Snippets of another place and time flashed across the back of his eyelids like an old reel to reel flick. A woman…Wo Fat…drugs. Water.

Water…..how he'd longed for the taste of the precious clear liquid. Images of Wo Fat bloody and lifeless passed through his mind, and strangely he felt a sense of relief despite his situation.

So, the question of who had him now rose to the forefront of his clouded mind. He cracked open his eyes once more, and looked about the room. He would have liked nothing more than to allow himself to return to the solace of unconsciousness, but he needed to try and assess his current predicament.

Images of the past week came back to him in fragments, and while he had no idea on exactly where he was, or who had him, he knew enough to know that the situation was bad. A garbled conversation in Pashto was the last thing he remembered, so he had to assume the worst. Some sort of radical group likely had him.

Steve took a shallow, calming breath which led to a dry cough that strained his parched throat. His wandering, jumbled thoughts drifted to the team, and he wondered where they were, and if they were safe. He knew the likelihood of them finding him was slim, but he refused to give up on any front until he could go no more. His body and mind were overworked, overexposed, and beaten up by his unplanned outing, and Steve was truly unsure of his physical condition.

His chest had been feeling tight since he'd come to, and ebbing pains in his stomach at times surged to only semi-tolerable levels. The increasing heat and numbness surrounding his left leg and wounded side only added to his laundry list of bodily trauma.

The SEAL knew that his need for medical attention grew every passing moment, and his current accommodations foreshadowed another potential threat. One which he wasn't sure his body would be able to take, no matter what his mind wanted.

A creak of a door jarred him from his thoughts, and he decided to keep his head down as though he were unconscious- a state which beckoned him with each passing breath.

He watched the floor through hooded yes, and two pairs of shoes caressed by tan robes entered his view.

"I don't think he's awake, Afzal," Steve heard an unsure voice announce.

"Time to change that."

Before Steve had time to prepare he was jarred fully awake when a deluge of cold water assaulted his face. The icy tendrils ran down his sun-baked body and soaked his shirt. While the presence of water was a long ago sought after need, its sudden frigid appearance was a huge shock to his system.

He sucked in a quick breath of air before coughing, groaning involuntarily. He opened his eyes and blinked away the dripping water, a shiver running through his body. He ran his tongue across his lips, greedily trying to access whatever moisture he could.

Before him stood two Afghani men, both clad in long, lightweight robes. The man holding the bucket had dark, hateful eyes, thick long beard, and a stance that exuded confidence and control. The other man had called him Afzal. This man had a cut on his head, and blood-stained material wrapped around one of his legs.

He started to connect the dots. The two men from the desert.

Steve turned his attention to the man on the right. Mr. Timid. He was dressed in alike attire, and sported a thinner beard. The eyes were shifting, as were his feet. Definitely unsure.

He surmised that this was the wild, AK wielder from before, and logged the information as a possible area to exploit. There was almost always a weak link in every human chain.

"Good, you're awake," Afzal stated in heavily accented English, his mouth upturned as if he were relishing the sight of his cornered, wounded prey, and Steve found the action disconcerting.

Steve chose not to reply to the observation, and instead quietly regarded a spot on the wall behind the two men.

"Not in the mood to chat, hm?" Afzal continued, clearly unconcerned by his captive's unwillingness to talk. He glanced at his compatriot, whose nervous expression remained.

Steve noted the Mr. Timid wanted to keep his distance, while Afzal seemed to desire a more intimate interaction. As if to prove his very thoughts, the darker man leaned into his personal space, sour breath assaulting his senses.

"Then I shall do the talking," Afzal informed him, before he pulled back returning to his full height. "You are a prisoner of the great Abdul Al-Rashid, who upholds the will of Allah."

Steve's stomach churned, however he remained impassive to the declaration. He'd caught wind of the man's name through unofficial channels, but no one has ever seen him. Only his followers.

Afzal appeared to be waiting for a reaction to the offered name drop, and when nothing was forthcoming, his eyes darkened with displeasure.

"We know you are an American, and we know you flew a helicopter into our space. It was I who notified our esteemed leader of your flight, and it was I who made sure you were shot down," Afzal proclaimed, and Steve could sense the man's greed and lust for power.

Hearing Afzal boast about the downing of his helo caused a swell of anger and regret in his heart, and he fought the urge to react. He watched Afzal's dark, hate-filled eyes attempt to penetrate his armor, as if the man thought he could instill fear using a simple stare down.

Steve refused to capitulate, and suddenly he was dealt a punch to his stomach that caused him to gasp and double over in pain. He coughed, the dryness in his throat making it hard for him to catch his breath. His eyes watered as he inhaled in an attempt to quell the onslaught of pain in his side.

He blinked away the moisture and managed to compose himself as best he could, and he pinned Afzal with a defiant stare before glancing at the man's compatriot. It was clear the man was unsure of himself, and the current situation. He hoped he could leverage that advantage.

Afzal's monotone, overconfident voice permeated Steve's thoughts and he realized that the man had been talking and appeared to be growing irater the longer Steve ignored him.

"Save yourself some pain American, and talk. Perhaps Allah will overlook your blasphemy," Afzal pressed, voice low and threatening. "Why are you here?"

The timid one shifted nervously beside Afzal, and Steve decided to make a move by engaging him in conversation. The man's brown eyes were full of indecision, yet Steve knew deep down who the man served. He just needed to figure out what avenue to exploit.

"You don't have to do this," Steve hoarsely offered, voice cracking, and he swallowed dryly.

He saw Mr. Timid's eyes shift to his friend as though seeking direction, and Steve was slightly surprised that he replied.

"My path was laid out the moment you and your friends arrived here. It is because of you that I am even here," Mr. Timid replied, anger creeping into his voice. "My fam.."

Afzal was quick to interject himself into the conversation, and it was at that moment Steve knew he needed to continue shaking Mr. Timid's tree.

"You see my friend As'ad could have been at home, but because of you and your friends," Afzal growled as he turned away from Steve, hand moving to his waist. He continued his self-gratifying monologue.

"Speaking of your friends," Afzal probed darkly. "We ran into their little welcoming party in the desert."

Steve's heart sank. He didn't like where Afzal was going with this, and he prayed Danny and the team were ok. He'd never live with himself if they'd perished looking for him. Afzal turned back to pin him with a look of pure joy, and Steve noticed that the Afghani had his very own combat knife in hand and was toying with the razor-sharp edge.

"Too bad they won't be coming for you," Afzal continued, taunting. "We made sure of that."

Steve fought against his restraints with what strength he had, liking nothing more than to wipe the smile off the arrogant man's face. "You're lying."

Afzal's smile grew at Steve's reaction, clearly enjoying his captive's anger. He continued to prod in an attempt to further erode Steve's resolve. "Your friends put up a good fight. However, it was not good enough. Now," he began once more, hand stroking his beard. "Why are you here?"

Steve barely heard the question. His mind was feverishly trying to process the possibility that Danny and the team had been killed. No. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. He willed himself to stay calm.

"Since you seem to require some motivation to talk, American," Afzal hissed, clearly tired of the growing silence Steve had been giving him, "and I've also not had the pleasure of being able to repay you for this…"

Afzal grabbed the bottom of his robe and lifted the material, allowing Steve to fully see the bloody bandage wrapped around his lower leg. He waved the knife showily. "I'll leave you with a little parting gift. Something you can enjoy until we talk next."

The knife was thrust in Steve's direction, and he felt the white-hot pain as it entered his injured leg, the sharp edge easily penetrating his makeshift splint. A hoarse cry of pain erupted from his strained throat, and his vision began to grey.

He fought the urge to pass out, but the intense pain that emanated from his leg assaulted his senses. He shut his eyes tightly, tears threatening to slip from closed lids.

Steve could feel Afzal's face hovering next to his, the man's hot breath rhythmically moving past his ear. "Your friends are dead. You'll soon be joining them," he promised as he gave the knife a slight twist.

Steve drew in a breath, the darkness closing in, the pain too much to bear. The last thing he remembered was Afzal's quiet, overconfident snarky chuckle before everything went dark, his head falling limp against his chest.

He never saw Afzal pat As'ad on the shoulder, nor heard the man request that their town be fortified should Steve's friends come looking. The two men left him unconscious and alone, combat knife embedded in his leg. A line of crimson trailed from the wound, the injury sluggishly bleeding, slowed by the knife's presence.

The door creaked as Afzal pulled it shut, the dim light hanging from the ceiling disturbed by the movement of air as it began to swing lazily from its wire, casting an eerie glow upon Steve's unresponsive body.

H50-H50

 **A** fzal's smile was plastered on his face and he stroked his beard as they exited their captive's room.

"Why are you so happy, Afzal? He didn't even tell us anything," As'ad questioned worriedly. "Abdul Al-Rashid wanted answers."

"And he will get his answers my friend. Men like that American take time to break, and right now we have him thinking that his friends are dead. That is good leverage," Afzal announced with confidence. "I will obtain the information we need, As'ad," he continued, frowning slightly in thought.

"Get me that list that Al-Rashid has compiled with all the military people that our spies have seen. Perhaps our friend has been here before."

"Of course, Afzal," As'ad agreed, voice taking on a slightly unsure undertone that didn't go unnoticed by his compatriot.

"You have a problem, As'ad?"

As'ad hesitated, unsure if he should be honest.

"Well?" Afzal's irritated voice prodded. He didn't have time for needless uncertainty. He had a feeling that his friend wasn't completely on board with this.

"I'm not sure I can do this, Afzal," he mumbled. "What will my children think?"

Afzal stared, and for a moment looked as though he was going to berate his friend for even speaking such nonsense. Instead he placed a firm hand on As'ad's shoulder.

"Your children will hear how their father was tasked by Allah, and how he successfully rose to that calling. They will know of how you carried out His wishes, and kept our lands free of these unworthy people."

He pointed towards their quarry's room. "Remember it was that man who caused you to be here, and why you are away from your family," Afzal continued to argue, using the topic of As'ad's blood to ensure the man was going to stay on task.

As'ad appeared to consider the words, and nodded, the mention of his family having the desired effect. Afzal knew he needed to keep his compatriot focused, and on the same page. It did not go unnoticed by him that their prisoner had picked up on As'ad's insecurity. This he could not allow.

As'ad had been wavering over the course of their task, and Afzal knew Al-Rashid, and more importantly, Allah, would not take the uncertainty lightly. One does not question the path laid out before him. One embraces it.

"You and your family will be honoured. Allah will smile upon us and our leader. Do as they ask and you will reap the spoils," Afzal continued to press. "That man in there," he sneered as he jabbed a finger towards the door, "represents all that is unholy. A disease that has infiltrated our lands. Let us get our answers Abdul al-Rashid desires. By any means necessary."

As'ad allowed a small smile to grace his features, appearing convinced for the time being. Only time will tell. "Of course, Afzal," he finally said with a hint of confidence.

It was enough. "Come, let us gather the names Al-Rashid has. Perhaps they will grant us some clarity," Afzal said with a dark, foreboding smile, and he took As'ad gently by the arm and guided him down the hallway.

H50-H50

 **S** teve woke to a searing, mind numbing pain in his leg, one that filled his whole body with the sensation of being on fire. Sporadic chills amongst the heat ran though his body, clothing damp from Afzal's first visit. He groaned as he rose back to semi-consciousness, tired eyes cracking open gradually as he tried to push away the fog. He prayed he was alone, and when he surveyed the room, his body slumped in relief.

Dim gaze shifted to look down at his leg, noting the blood appeared to have coagulated around the blade of the knife. He was sure that he'd have lost a lot of blood had Afzal removed the weapon. His leg was numb, and he wasn't sure if it was from his fracture, or from the stab wound. Either way, he wasn't going anywhere fast.

At this point these guys needed him alive, and making him uncomfortable was the play here. They wanted information. Information that Steve had no intent on giving them.

He would hold out was long as he could, until his body and mind could give no more.

His team, his friends. Danny. Were they dead as Afzal had claimed? He blamed himself for this. All because of his steadfast loyalty and sense of duty to Joe. His team had perished looking for him. Tac had died helping him. He choked back a draining sob that threatened to overcome him.

Deep down he didn't want to believe it. There was a possibility that he'd been lied to, and he greedily held onto that shred of hope as if it were his lifeline. The remaining threads that were keeping him going were fraying one by one, and he grasped the strand of hope that Danny was still out there. Alive.

If he didn't hold on to something, he was certain he'd lose himself.

The sound of the door brought his mind back to the circumstance at hand. Afzal and As'ad casually wandered in, the former wearing a smile that Steve could only describe as predatory. It gave him the chills.

As'ad looked to be displaying more confidence in his body language, and Steve wasn't sure if it was a well-performed act, of if he'd been influenced somehow. Steve tended to think that it was unlikely a switch like that could be so easily flipped, and he intended to find out.

Afzal's dark, soulless gaze drifted to Steve's leg, and he was obviously enjoying the result of his handiwork. "Your leg does not look so good, _Commander,"_ he observed coolly.

Steve didn't have an opportunity to hide his surprise at the dropped rank, and his tired mind scrambled to regroup.

Afzal chuckled, as if a joke had been told that only he understood.

"You think that your little game would stop us from finding the truth?" he snorted, voice rising an octave. "Abdul Al-Rashid has resources you Americans could only fathom."

His hands rose and he spread them wide, indicating the vast lands around them. "Al-Rashid's reach is vast, and it is he who controls this area, and you've been here before it would seem, hm? Lucky for us. Not so for you."

Steve swallowed dryly. He hadn't anticipated this twist of events. However, as long as they didn't make a connection to his team, his name meant little. His purpose here was still the ace he had up his sleeve. He hoped his opponents didn't have a full house or it would be game over for him. He called their bluff.

"So why are you here talking to me," he quietly inquired, "If you have all the answers."

"Although Al-Rashid has many talents, it is still a question as to why you came here, and why you were flying over our lands," Afzal argued, an edge to his voice.

"We spent days following you at his behest," As'ad piped in, growing irritated. "You must have come here for something important. I didn't like having to be away for so long. Now you will tell us what we want to know, so I can finally go home to my family."

Afzal shot a sideways glance at As'ad, and Steve got the impression the former wasn't happy with the furthering of information his friend was providing. Despite the fact the SEAL knew what his answer might provoke, he chose it regardless.

"No," he rasped quietly. "I won't."

Steve felt before he saw Afzal's fist impact the side of his face near his jawline, and his head twisting to the side harshly with the blow. Stars flashed across his vision, and it took everything he had to keep them at bay.

The familiar, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth from biting his tongue, and he spat the offending liquid between Afzal's feet.

He recalled the last time he was held prisoner in this country by the Taliban. He barely made it out alive, and if not for Danny sending in the cavalry, he would have perished. Been an example.

This time his cavalry was already here, likely killed by the same man who stood before him. Mocking. Overconfident. Smug. He wanted to wipe the smile off of Afzal's face. He fought against his restraints, anger fueling his energy.

He was rewarded with another blow, and was roughly jarred to the side by the strike, body crying out in pain. His dry, cracked lips had split open from Afzal's hit, and he could feel the warm moisture. He licked his lips.

"You will tell us why you and your friends are here, Commander," Afzal instructed, as if he were expecting a different reply."Why were you flying over our airspace," he continued when Steve didn't reply to the initial question.

Steve's vision was foggy, his body weak from dehydration, infection, and Afzal's recent questioning techniques. Through the haze he'd noticed that As'ad had stepped back slightly, watching. He wasn't sure if these two were attempting a good guy bad buy routine, or if the uneasy look on As'ad's face meant he wasn't completely comfortable with the physicality.

Steve ignored Afzal's persistent inquiries, knowing full well it would only enrage the Afghani man further. But he needed to get through to As'ad, the weakest link in this dangerous chain. It might be his one remaining chance at survival.

"What would your family think about what you are doing?" Steve hoarsely asked As'ad. "You mentioned your family. You have kids? What about them?"

As'ad stared at Steve, his eyes clouding over in what looked to be a hint of regret. He licked his lips with insecurity, as though he were mentally warring with himself over what was happening in front of him. His eyes darted between Steve, and somewhere between his own feet.

Afzal had had enough.

"He serves Allah, and Al-Rashid as I do," he man growled, his patience thin. "His family benefits from his work in service to Him, as do all great people of this land."

"What do your children think of the people you kill, huh? Do...," Steve's head snapped once more to the side, the gash on his forehead from the helicopter crash reopening. Blood trickled down the side of his sun-burned skin.

He blinked the liquid away from his eye, and when he regained what little control he had over his body desire to surrender to unconsciousness, he saw Afzal, face contorted with anger. Steve's very own P226 was in the man's hand, the muzzle wet with blood.

Afzal's hold on his composure had vanished, the calm and in control version being replaced by a very angry, driven, radical man. He stared at Steve, his dark eyes filled with what could easily be described as hatred.

Now Steve was worried. He'd hoped that his usefulness to Afzal would be what kept him alive. Now he wasn't so sure.

Afzal eyes narrowed but he said nothing, as if attempting to gauge Steve's defiance level. He stepped back, glancing at his friend.

As'ad stood still, staring. He looked as though he were frozen in time, a wax figure in a museum. It was clear to Steve that the man was coming undone.

Afzal was quick to take over. He patted his compatriot on the shoulder, a small smile gracing his lips, his anger vanishing.

As'ad flinched when Afzal made physical contact, and for a moment Steve thought that the man would reflexively strike his associate. He could only hope.

"Easy, my friend," Afzal almost purred, voice monotone. "I think it's time you took a break, As'ad," he offered as he nudged the stunned man forwards. "I can deal with our guest."

"Of... of course, Afzal," As'ad mumbled once he'd found his voice. He gave Steve one last glance before he shuffled towards the exit, head slightly bowed.

The door creaked open and As'ad vanished, the door banging shut in his wake.

Steve, now left alone with Afzal, watched as the man stuffed the P226 into his waistband beneath his flowing robes. He knew the man was dangerous, as Afzal clearly had a short fuse and a displayed penchant for violence.

He swallowed the dry lump in his throat. He was sore, tired, and his body was not afraid to hide where it hurt. His leg was completely numb, and he was having increasing difficulty compartmentalizing his pain. He licked his dry, bloody-encrusted lips.

"I am sure you are thirsty," Afzal started, surprising Steve with the observation. He walked back and forth in front of the SEAL, his hands relaxed behind his back.

Steve grew suspicious.

Afzal leaned forwards, entering Steve's personal space, hot foul breath caressing the SEAL's check as he whispered. "I'm willing to overlook your blatant insensitivities towards my friend, and your obvious attempts to turn him against me. I will offer you some water, if you tell me what I want to know."

Steve's body cried out desperately for a taste of the precious liquid, and it took everything his waning conscious mind had to deny himself that necessity. He couldn't give in. He would be giving Afzal what he wanted. He refused to capitulate.

"You're wasting your time," Steve quietly deadpanned, his tired blues meeting the quickly angering browns of Afzal.

The Afghani man nodded slowly, clearly irritated by Steve's unwillingness to co-operate. He stood to his full height, dark eyes cold and disturbingly calculating. It was dawning on Steve that there may be more going on here, and that the man was not happy with having hit a snag in some sort of master plan.

Steve watched Afzal walk slowly towards him, as if he were a predator stalking wounded prey, and he could feel the stale air around him shift with the movement. Afzal paused, leaning in as if he were going to whisper in his ear, and Steve fought the urge to see what the man was doing.

Blinding pain assaulted him as he felt Afzal slightly twist the knife that was in his leg. He couldn't stop the hoarse cry that escaped his parched throat as the encroaching darkness began to cloud his vision. Steve no longer wanted to fight his body's request for respite, and he gave in, allowing the bliss of unconsciousness that was beckoning him begin to take hold.

"Very well, Commander," Afzal acquiesced, voice seeming distant through the fog. "We'll do this the hard way."

* * *

 **TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks to everyone for all the follows/favs. Extra thanks to those who took some time to leave me a review or a PM. Makes my muse happy and I write faster. :)**

 **Usual disclaimer applies. This is all for fun.**

* * *

 **T** he sun had nearly set on the horizon, its fiery orange hue casting an almost regal glow across the desert. If the situation wasn't so grim, Danny mused, the scene would be very beautiful. But the chasm that was the pit in his stomach ached over Steve's predicament, and he hoped to hell Fox and Brick knew what they were doing.

Personally, he wasn't completely familiar with a rescue operation of this magnitude. Sure he'd conducted some busts and raids while on the force, and with the team, but this was a whole other animal. Even their rescue of Steve from Wo Fat's clutches in North Korea didn't compare to this.

Danny allowed himself to hope. Hope that he would get his partner back alive. He sighed, enjoying the slightly cooler air as it passed across his sun-abused skin. He could sense the tension emanating from the people in the jeep, and only Brick and Fox looked to be the ones able to visually hide their emotions.

At times Kono wore her heart on her sleeve, and this was no different. Danny could see the plethora of feelings written on her face, and he offered her a small, comforting squeeze of her forearm, eliciting a small smile in reply. He knew she still felt responsible, no matter how many times anyone told her otherwise.

He got the feeling that only Steve would be able to push her to forgive herself.

Chin fiddled with the excess material of the strap attached to his gun, clearly deep in thought. That was enough to tell Danny that the normally cool and calm Hawaiian was nervous. Hell, they were all nervous.

Lou stared ahead at the darkening sky on the horizon, expression hard. Danny knew that the ex-SWAT Captain cared for Steve a lot, which was a far cry from when the two men had first met. They butted heads until that one case, and since then Danny had watched the respect and friendship grow. Very much like Steve and himself had done.

Fox's voice jarred him from his musings.

"We're nearly here. Stay frosty."

Fox piloted the jeep northwest, giving Khash a wide berth. The plan was to stay well away from the town's perimeter, so that as not to be seen entering the area. If this plan was to proceed with the least amount of risk to themselves and to Steve, caution was of the utmost importance.

They crossed the road that ran right through town, west of their target. Fox kept the speed to a minimum so as not to kick up too much dust, or draw any unwanted attention.

"Everyone keep your eyes peeled. Anyone could be an informant for Al-Rashid. Even a kid you think you see playing. That being said, not everyone here is an avid follower. Don't mistake being watched for being seen," Brad advised the team.

The area where they crossed the road was quiet, and there was not a soul to be found. Not completely unusual for this time of the day, as most of the people were in their dwellings, carrying on with daily life.

Danny breathed out a sigh of relief once they'd left Dashti Margo disappearing in the rearview mirror. He never wanted to see that deserted, sweltering hell hole ever again, and he promised himself that when he got home, he would be more embracing of Hawaii and its beautiful beaches and climate.

He knew he'd shock Steve with a statement like that, and he'd be more than willing to repeat it again and again to his partner, all while laughing and relaxing over a Longboard. He shoved his hand into his pocket, seeking the only connection he had to his partner. His fingers greedily wrapped around the material, a reminder that they still had a long way to go before they could put this all behind them.

"Well that was surprisingly easily," Lou said with shock as they passed through the area unhindered. "Somehow I get the feeling that the rest won't be a walk in the park."

"We could only be so lucky, Lou," Brick chimed in, tossing the ex-SWAT leader a look of mild dismay. "But I'll take whatever lady luck will give us."

"Amen to that," Lou agreed.

They drove for another then minutes as darkness descended upon the land, the clear night sky displaying a showy array of celestial bodies. The moon was low on the horizon, its orange, wine coloured glow offering little detriment to the team's night operation.

Fox rolled the jeep to a stop, cutting the engine and switching off the lights, and silence fell upon them. Everyone filed out of the jeep, the rustling of gear the only sounds that were made.

Danny shouldered his M4, the action eliciting a wince as his bicep wound throbbed in protest.

Brick noted the flinch and he lightly patted the detective on the shoulder. "You need me to take a look?" he quietly asked.

Danny shook his head as he waved a dismissive hand at the offer, a wan smile passing his lips. "It's fine, Brick. Let's just find Steve."

Brick nodded, though the concern didn't leave his eyes. "Understood."

"Listen up gents and lady," Brad announced through the comms, voice low. "We keep the chatter to a minimal, we stay in our assigned teams, and we stick to the plan." He pinned each member with a look of determination.

"I know I don't have to remind you all of what's at stake here, or the obvious dangers of what we are about to do. No matter what happens, know this. Steve has chosen his team- his friends, well. It has been my honour and privilege to have met and worked with you. Now let's bring the Commander home," Brad finished, and he nodded at each of the team, a small smile on his face.

"Hoo-ah, sir," Brick said in affirmation, clearly ready to kick ass and take names. He looked at Danny and Chin. "You gents ready?"

"Why does Fox sound like he's giving everyone a final send off," Danny said with apprehension as he met Brick's waiting gaze.

"He's not. It's his motivational speech, and his way of showing his respect to the people he serves with. And he's right, you know. Steve chose his team well," Brick replied. "So, are you two ladies ready?" He jokingly pressed, clearly enjoying the looks that Chin and Danny were now pinning him with.

"Let's bring Steve home," Chin stated with a confident nod.

"I've been ready since this whole mess began," Danny finally said.

"Let's move," Fox ordered, and he took point, the rest of the team falling into step behind, with Brick assuming rear guard.

The cooler air stole some of the day's overbearing heat, and Danny welcomed the temperature change. He stayed close behind Chin, could feel the tension he could see in the other man's shoulders. Brick was quietly following behind him, and aside from the soft footfalls, the burly man was doing an impressive job of staying silent.

He could see a few dim, quietly flickering lights in the town. Khash was a lightly slumbering beast, and he feared for Steve and themselves when and if that creature awoke.

Fox held up a fist, signaling the group to halt, and he took a knee and slipped on his night vision goggles. He switched to infrared, and watched for signs of heat signatures.

"What's it look like?" Lou questioned as he moved alongside the Captain, voice a low murmur through the comms.

"No rooftop sentries visible on this side," Brad replied after a moment's silence.

"It's too quiet. I don't like it," Danny whispered, feeling like they were walking into some sort of trap. He jabbed a finger towards the north side. "I mean, why leave one side of the town unguarded unless they want us to come from this direction?"

"Most of these guys are just radicals, Danny. They don't have a clue about tactics," Brick quietly reminded him. "In fact I'll bet a beer that our 'friend' in the truck back there hasn't even told Al-Rashid about us. And that's how we're going to get in."

"Well it just makes me feel so much better now. We've got a bunch of lunatics holding Steve, who could go crazy at any given moment," Danny replied with irritation, his nerves fueling his sarcasm.

Brick appeared nonplussed, allowing the diatribe to pass like water off of a duck's back. "Trust me."

Danny pressed his lips together in reply. He knew he wasn't being fair to Brick, and he did trust the man. However, his nerves and patience were on their last legs.

"Looks like movement by the rear, guys," Kono announced, having seen a glint of something catching the moonlight.

"I can't get a clear reading into the town. Too much residual heat and too thick a wall," Fox informed Kono. He waited a moment longer, and his patience was rewarded when the red hue of a warm body appeared briefly. "I've got him. One guy on patrol watching the rear entrance. Nice catch, Kono. Brick?"

"Sir?" Brick replied, tone indicating he was ready for an order.

"Deal with it," Fox instructed, those three simple words speaking volumes to his seasoned Sergeant.

"Copy that," Brick voiced as he broke from the group and quietly advanced towards the town, stance lowered, steps deliberate.

Danny watched Shawn's precise, calculated movements, and looked on tensely as the burly man reached the wall of one of the buildings and pressed his back against it, inching his way towards the opening where the sentry and been. He waited. The appearance of the muzzle of an AK-47 emerging from the darkened opening signaled the man's return.

He tensed, body quiet. Like a coiled viper he waited for the right moment to strike.

The enemy emerged from the doorway, oblivious to the threat awaiting him. He lazily held his rifle, having walked the same patrol route hundreds of times, never encountering a soul. His inattentiveness was about to get him killed.

Brick moved at a speed Danny thought wasn't possible. With a skill only years of training and experience could produce, the burly man was next to the unsuspecting enemy in a matter of seconds.

Brick wrapped his arms around the enemy's neck and held him in a choke hold. The man dropped his AK in favour of trying to break his attacker's vise-like grip. The rifle fell to the sand with a dampened thud as Brick pulled the wide-eyed man away from the opening, and out of sight of anyone who might have a visual from the inside.

He whispered in the man's ear. "Say goodnight, sunshine," before he gave a quick twist, snapping the man's neck. The enemy's body fell limp, lifeless eyes wide with permanently fixed shock, and Brick dragged the corpse to the side so as not to create any reason for suspicion.

"Clear," he voiced in to his mic.

"Copy," Fox replied. He circled his arm in the air, signaling the team to move out.

Quietly the rest of the team approached the perimeter, filing in behind Brick, who had just finished hiding the AK-47.

"Wouldn't that be a good thing to hang onto?" Danny asked, gesturing to the sand where Brick had just buried the gun.

"We'd better not need it, because if we have to use that type of noisy firepower, we're in a world of trouble," Fox replied as he moved up to assume rear guard. "We also have the added benefit of suppressors on our weapons. I want us to remain as silent as possible for as long as we can."

Brad's icy blue eyes met Danny's, and the blonde felt a cool shiver run down his spine despite the air temperature, as if the older man were able to instill a sense of fear with a simple look. "If the shit hits the fan...well I've no doubt we'll get our hands on another one of those rifles rather quickly."

"What's it look like, Brick?" Lou asked.

Brick peered around the corner, stealing a look inside at the town. "This is going to feel like a bit of a maze, guys," he warned. "We're got zero intel on what his place looks like and Steve could be held anywhere."

"We stick with the plan," Brad reminded them. "Echo team, you head east towards the south. We'll move west."

"Roger that, sir," Shawn confirmed. He met the expectant gazes of Danny and Chin. "Ready gents?"

"As ready as I can be," Danny replied, fingers tense as he gripped his gun. He was gaining a new perspective into the dangers Steve must have experienced while actively serving. His admiration and respect for his friend grew.

"Let's find Steve," Chin stated with a nod of determination.

Brick took one last peek before quietly entering, taking the first alleyway on the left. Chin and Danny followed on his heels, tense yet alert.

Fox nodded at Kono and Lou. "Let's move." He slipped past them, taking point for their group as he entered several paces behind Chin's retreating back before splitting off and heading to the right.

Kono followed, and she took Fox's lead, eyes scanning their surroundings. Lou took up the rear, his years of SWAT training taking over as he easily fell into step behind her.

"Signal when you have the package," Fox radioed, voice hushed. "Good luck, Echo."

"Roger. Same to you," Brick replied.

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

 **B** rick moved forwards down the darkened alleyway, eyes darting back and forth as he scanned the area for hostiles, or any signs of Steve. Intermittent flickering of a candlelight spilled out of a window on their left just ahead, and he held up a fisted hand, signaling Chin and Danny to halt.

A shadow of someone moving about could be seen as the person occasionally passed by the light source. Hushed voices emanated from the window and Brick tensed instinctively, body ready to react.

Danny watched the window, half expecting someone's head to emerge, voice angry as they spouted foreign words of alarm. He pushed back the encroaching vision, and instead focused on the steady rise and fall of Brick's shoulders in front of him, drawing on the feeling of security that displayed.

He took a deep breath, burying his growing anxiety. He was a cop, sure, but this level of danger was at a whole other level than what he was accustomed to. The enemy was a hell of a lot more reckless and motivated, with little to lose. And here, anyone could be the potential threat.

"What do we have?" he whispered to Brick.

"Multiple tangos," Brick radioed quietly. "Do not engage unless necessary. Stay low, and follow my lead." He crouched down low, and moved to the left side of the alley, keeping his head below the window ledge as he headed forward.

Chin patted Danny on the shoulder, signaling the blond to proceed.

Danny followed Brick's movements to the letter, heart rate increasing as the passed below the opening. Chin stuck just behind him, body hunkered as he brought up the rear, and he blew out a sigh of relief when their actions didn't incite a riot.

"Let's go," Brick voiced as he turned and headed into another darkened alley, footfalls smooth and deliberate.

Voices, their tones casual sounding to Danny's ears filtered from up ahead, the noise growing louder as they came closer.

"Shit," Brick growled as he saw the silhouettes of two men appear in their alley. The arms were slightly raised, their outlines displaying the presence of rifles. There was no turning back, and the two men were fast approaching, their gaits unhurried but steady.

"Brick…," Chin pressed, awaiting the large man to make the call. His hands tightened on his gun, ready.

"Hold your fire," Brick firmly told them as he quickly looked around for options. He spotted a door ten feet ahead, just up the alley. He watched the two men's shapes grow larger as they came closer. They had just enough time. It was a risk, but there was little choice. "Quick. Up here. Move," he hissed as he rushed the door and pushed it open, waving Chin and Danny to enter.

Danny hurried forwards at Brick's rapid hand motion, ducking inside the open doorway and into a darkened room. Chin slipped in behind him, followed by Brick who quietly pulled the door shut with a muffled creak.

Brick tensed at the unwanted sound, his back to the wall as he waited next to the door as if he expected it to swing open at any moment, revealing angry Afghanis waving rifles.

Conversational voices grew louder, and stopped by the door. Danny didn't understand a word, but the tone in the voices told him they were suspicious. The door slowly moved as it began to open, but abruptly stopped when a louder, stern voice filled the air.

Brick, poised and ready to attack whoever decided to enter, hesitated as the conversation outside continued. He held his breath as he listened to the irritated voices, and the door moved away from him as it was pulled shut. The voices gradually grew quieter as the two men walked back down the alleyway, quiet falling upon the area.

Danny blew out the breath he'd been holding, and he wiped the nervous sweat from his brow. He tried to relax by allowing his gaze to wander about their hiding spot. His stomach dropped.

"Good thing that other guy gave those two shit," Brick said with a smirk. "They.."

Danny interrupted him with a hastened whisper. "Uh.. we've got a problem."

Brick's attention shifted to the middle of the darkened room, rifle raised in expectation of a threat.

"Wait," Danny hissed. There, in the hallway stood a young boy about five years old clutching a ragged, dirty plush animal.

The boy silently stared, still as if he were a statue, appearing to examine the three of them. Danny went to move when a hand on his arm halted him.

"I don't think that's a good idea, brah," Chin advised softly, hand tightening on Danny's forearm.

"We need to move, gents. Before he wakes his parents and we end up dead," Brick told Danny, his tone edgy.

"I think he'd have done that by now, and I don't want to scare him into changing his mind," Danny whispered, and slowly he rose, Chin's hand slipping off his arm. He walked over to the boy, and gently kneeled down. He knew this wasn't one of his better ideas, but deep down he knew he could persuade the child to go back to bed. Sure he couldn't speak the language, but something told him he could do this. He heard Brick sigh in frustration behind him.

"Hi there," Danny softly said, and the child said nothing, brown eyes studying Danny's face. "We're not going to hurt you, ok? Why don't you take your furry friend with you and get some sleep?" His tone was soft, not unlike the many times Grace would wake, and he'd give her a small hug and a glass of milk, and send her to bed.

Carefully he placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and nodded towards the hall. "Bedtime, ok?"

To his surprise the boy nodded, eyes wide as they probed Danny's face, and the blond felt as though his very soul were being evaluated. The child let Danny gently turn him around, and nudge him towards his room. The boy disappeared down the hall and Danny rose, turning back to Brick and Chin.

Chin had a knowing smile on his face as he nodded, clearly unsurprised by Danny's parenting success.

Brick had a look of shock and admiration on his face. "Well I'll be a...," he shook his head. "Let's get the hell out of here, shall we?" He slowly cracked the door open and peered out, making sure the alleyway was clear. He waved the go ahead before slipping back outside.

Chin clapped Danny on the shoulder. "After you, child whisperer."

"Very funny. It worked, didn't it?" Danny replied with playful snark before he followed Brick outside. Chin was on his heels, the Hawaiian closing the door softly behind them.

The three men headed down the alley, continuing their search for Steve.

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" **A** nd just how exactly are we supposed to get through this?" Lou skeptically asked Fox, who was peeking out of a window to an open courtyard full of enemies.

They'd made decent ground when they had first entered, however a fast-approaching jeep required them to make some hasty moves, and now here they were, inside a dwelling with some people who were none too happy to have unexpected guests.

Fox gave Lou a look that clearly said 'cut me some slack' before he glanced back at Kono, who had her suppressed MP7 out and was guarding a man, woman, and their child.

The man had a scowl on this face and a murderous look in his eyes. His wife and child cowered on a ragged, nearby sofa, and a rush of murmured words came from the woman's lips as she tried to soothe her son.

Had this been a different situation, one comprised of all grown men, Fox would have disposed of them without a second thought. These type of men drew their families into hell, and Fox wasn't about to kill a woman and child without reason or provocation.

'Shut her up," Fox hissed at the man in Pashto. "Or my friend will be forced to take action," he added as he nodded at Kono. For the moment they had the upper hand, and he wanted to keep the scale weighing in their favour. Pretenses needed to be kept up.

The scowling man fired an angry glance at his wife. "Be quiet," he barked at her in Pashto, and she fell silent, clutching her son tighter in fear.

"I hope you have a plan," Kono said to Brad as she glanced over at him, face tight with apprehension. It was clear she wasn't entirely comfortable with their current situation.

"We can't go out there yet. The risk is too high. We hold fast here, and hope that Echo Team has better luck," Fox told her.

"I don't like this, Captain," Lou warily voiced. "We're sitting ducks here if anyone finds us."

"I know, but if we move now, we run the risk of blowing not only our cover, but Echo's as well," Fox reminded him. "If that dirtbag from the pickup gets wind that it's us; and he does know what we look like; he might kill Steve in retribution. We can't take the risk." He pinned Lou and Kono with a firm look, blue eyes determined. "So we wait. Agreed?"

Kono nodded, her dark eyes seeking out Lou's, and she probed them with a look that almost begged the man to agree.

Lou met her intense gaze with an equal one of his own, and after what appeared to be a silent conversation between them he nodded. "Agreed."

"Echo team, we're in a bit of a situation here. What's your status?" Fox radioed.

" _Hit a bit of a snag, but we're oscar mike now, sir,"_ Brick replied. _"You need backup?"_

"Negative. Stick with the plan and keep us apprised. Happy hunting Echo." Fox ended the transmission and he looked over at Lou. "Keep watch out this window. I'm going to check out this place a little more carefully. Stay sharp." He moved away from the window and stood up, and headed into the back to look for alternate routes out.

Lou watched Fox disappear before glancing at Kono. "I really hope the guys have better luck than us, because if things go sideways we're going to be up the creek without a paddle.

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 **T** he creak of a heavy door jarred him from his semi-slumber, and he tiredly blinked his eyes in an attempt to clear his head. Two Afghani men appeared, dragging an unconscious man, whose hands were bound behind his back. Clearly they were expecting resistance, but judging by the limp arms and bobbing head, he thought the idea ludicrous.

"Move to back," the one man instructed in broken English, and with one free hand he produced a pistol and waved it to emphasize his point.

He did as he was told, slowly shifting to the back of the cell. His body was bruised and sore, but given the state of the man in front of him, something told him he was the fortunate one.

The second man took out a key and unlocked the cell door, sliding it open with a loud rattle. They dragged the unconscious man in and carelessly dropped their prisoner on his back, the man's weight landing on his bound hands and arms.

"Have nice sleep," the one man taunted before he closed the cell door and locked it. He went to the door, his associate in tow. They left, the banging of the door closing echoing throughout the room before silence returned.

Cautiously he shifted towards his new guest. The man was still, and if not for the shallow rise and fall of the man's chest, he'd have thought him dead. The dark hair was wet, as were the rest of the man's clothing, and he could almost feel the heat radiating from the unconscious man's skin.

He stared, feeling an odd sensation, as if he knew this person. The build. The hair. Everything cried familiarity. Hesitantly he touched the man's face, gently turning it towards him. He sucked in a breath as if he were punched in the stomach by an invisible fist.

It can't be. This man was supposed to be a thousand miles away from here. He found his voice as his eyes wandered over the abused body of the man he'd considered to be like a son to him.

"Steve? Shit what have they done to you, son…," Joe White choked as he took in the bruised, bloody, sun-burned face.

Gingerly he lifted Steve's limp body and with slightly shaking hands he fiddled with the ropes binding Steve's wrists. After what felt like hours, he had the rough, braided rope undone, and he tossed it aside as if it were contaminated.

Gently he lowered Steve back down, resting the man's arms upon his chest. He took in Steve's raw, red wrists and the tiny cuts that littered the younger man's arms. Whatever Steve had gone through, he didn't do it without putting up a fight.

Joe ran a hand down his face, his heart in his throat as he allowed his gaze to roam over Steve's unconscious form and his worry increased with every shallow, rapid breath the younger man took. Hesitantly he placed two fingers on Steve's neck, and he felt the hastened beat of a heart rate, and he swallowed dryly.

Joe moved closer to Steve's head, and like a father handling a newborn he cradled Steve's upper body in his lap in an attempt to give the man some semblance of comfort. The movement jostled Steve's injuries and Joe heard a weak, pain-filled groan pass the man's cracked, blood-dried lips.

Steve mumbled fevered words, and Joe had to lean forwards, his ear inches from the SEAL's face. "Dan…ny…?" Steve whispered.

"No, son," Joe quietly replied, his stomach tight with worry. "It's Joe. Danny's not here. I'm sorry," he added with regret.

"D'nny…," Steve repeated, and Joe felt his heart shatter at the unmistakable plea in the younger man's voice.

Joe closed his eyes, tears prickling at the corners, threatening to fall. He took a deep breath, gathering his emotions. "I'm so, so sorry, Steve," Joe apologized softly, and he sighed, wondering how in the hell he was going to fix this.

Steve needed medical attention, and soon. He dreaded the alternative.

* * *

 **TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

**Appreciate everyone sticking with the story, the follows/favs, and also everyone who takes some time to review. Mahalo.**

 **Standard disclaimer applies. This is all in fun.**

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 **J** oe sat with Steve's head in his lap, left hand softly rubbing the injured man's shoulder. He let his eyes wander over Steve's beat up body, and the way his wet clothing clung to his slightly trembling frame.

The blood-stained fabric showed off Steve's plethora of injuries, and the darker, heavily saturated material on the younger man's leg, midsection, and shoulder caused Joe further alarm. He stared at the makeshift splint on Steve's leg, and his mind began offering up scenarios with regards to how Steve had received the injury. It was unlikely that Steve had taken the initial abuse here, given the attempt to set the break.

He wasn't so sure about all the blood, however. It looked to be too much, and Joe's stomach clenched at the thought of the pain Steve would have been in–still would be, to have taken additional trauma to an already wounded area.

Joe slipped off his jacket, placing the rough, dirt-covered material on the ground in a haphazardly folded lump. He moved, and gently laid Steve's head on it before kneeling on the cold ground next to him. He needed to see how bad Steve's wounds were, and if he could do anything to slow the bleeding.

What Joe really needed were bandages, and he knew damn well he was unlikely to get them here. He had to make do somehow. What other choice did he have?

The heat emanating from Steve's body had him worried, and the fact that the younger man wasn't sweating, gave Joe a sickening feeing that Steve had spent far too much time out in the elements with no shelter or water. The red, sun burned skin. The dry, bloodied and cracked lips. Dehydration would also explain many of Steve's current symptoms. The weakness, and the absence of sweat. The rapid, shallow breathing.

Joe took a deep breath to calm his increasing worry, and ran a hand down his face. This was his fault. His own disappearance caused Steve to come looking, which is exactly what he wanted to avoid. He didn't want the man to feel the need to help, and yet here Steve was. Bruised, beaten, and dying in a cell in some hellhole town run by lunatics with misguided morals, and a whole lot of guns.

He'd never forgive himself if Steve died because of this, and he intended to do whatever he could to make sure that didn't happen.

Joe tried to channel his worry and turn it into focusing on helping Steve however he could, stowing his self-recrimination and guilt for now.

There was little he could do for all the cuts and bruises that littered Steve's body, and he took to gently unbuttoning Steve's shirt so he could better see what he was dealing with.

The angry, red skin peeking out of the bloody bandage around Steve's midsection radiated heat, and Joe had a feeling that infection had festered and was likely spreading. Not good. A body with that kind of injury needed to sweat to cool itself down, and Steve was far too dehydrated to lose what precious little water it needed to remain functioning. His body had nothing left to expend.

The more Joe looked, the more he felt sick to his stomach at the damage. He peeled back the shirt near Steve's left shoulder, and found a small, neat bullet hole- likely a 9mm. He didn't want to disturb the injury too much, as the wet fabric of Steve's shirt had been providing a modicum of assistance in slowing the bleeding.

Gently he felt for an exit wound. There wasn't one. Shit.

Joe took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed something... _anything_ that could help him increase Steve's chances at survival. He shuffled on his knees to Steve's lower leg, a slight wince passing his features. He was not without his own cuts and bruises, but compared to the treatment Steve received, his own were almost a walk in the park.

He could tell Steve had obviously tried to set whatever injury he'd received before ending up in this hellhole, but the other wound looked much cleaner and deeper- more like it had been made by something very sharp like a knife. He choked back on his emotions, suppressing them for now. He needed to keep a cool head and think.

Joe wondered what sort of intel these people thought Steve had, because clearly someone was pissed off and trying to make some sort of sadistic point. He rubbed his temple at the growing headache, and he was about to rip some of his shirt off and use it as a crude bandage when the loud creak of the door stopped him. He quickly and reluctantly put some distance between himself and Steve, so as not to hint at the fact that there might be a connection between them.

A man he'd not yet met shuffled in hesitantly and closed the door behind him, a small cup cradled in his hands as if he'd been attempting to hide it. Joe couldn't get a read on this man's intentions, and when he made eye contact, the visitor averted his gaze to Steve.

Joe felt a surge of protectiveness, but he quelled the urge to show his hand. It could get him and Steve killed. He cast a quick glance at Steve, noting the younger man remained unresponsive, his body looking to be concentrating on one thing. Breathing.

"What do you want," Joe quietly asked when their visitor made no further moves.

The man looked startled, as though he'd only just noticed Joe was in the room.

"I...,' the man began, and he glanced down at the cup in his hand. "Water," he blurted.

Joe raised a curious eyebrow. This man was not like any of the others he'd encountered in this town so far. He tracked the Afghani man's movements as the man came closer to their cell door and kneeled down, pushing the cup shakily through the space between the rusted metal bars.

A noise filtered into the room from outside in the hallway, and the man jumped slightly, clearly on edge. He took one last look at Steve before turning to go.

"Wait," Joe softly pleaded, and the tentative man paused and looked at him, dark eyes full of confusion. "He needs medical attention. Please. I need some bandages."

Joe knew he was taking a risk by showing this man that he had concern for his cell mate, but something in the Afghani's eyes told him it was worth trying.

The man paused, and appeared to be considering the request as his gaze shifted from Joe to land on Steve. "Perhaps," the man said in way of reply before he quickly turned to the door, as another sound in the hallway seeming to hasten his desire to leave.

Joe didn't have a chance to reply before the man cracked open the door and slipped out, softly shutting it behind him. Once the man was gone he waited a few extra seconds before he got up and grabbed the cup of water and smelled it, slightly suspicious.

There was little odour, and it occurred to him that if they'd wanted to kill either of them, they'd be dead already. He dabbed a finger into the clear liquid and rubbed a little on his lips. Tasted like water. Joe moved over and attempted to rouse Steve. He gently lifted the man's shoulders.

"Steve? I have some water for you," Joe softly said, and he gently nudged the younger man, hoping to wake him, if only for a minute. "Come on. Please."

"D'nny?" Steve breathlessly whispered, dull blues peeking out between tired eyelids. It was clear to Joe that Steve was feebly hanging on to a temporary shred of consciousness.

"It's Joe, Steve," he sadly informed him. "You need water. Please try and drink."

"M' hot...," Steve said in way of reply as his eyes slid closed.

"I know, son," Joe replied quietly as he placed the cup to Steve's dry lips, hoping the man would drink even a little.

Steve's lips parted as he drank a very small amount, a dry cough following. Joe was hesitant to try and give the young man too much at once. He didn't know what kind of shock that might bring to Steve's system.

Joe patted Steve's arm gently, and he sighed at how warm the man was. "You concentrate on resting, ok?"

When no reply followed he knew that Steve had lost the battle with unconsciousness. He watched the rapid rise and fall of the man's chest, and he rubbed a hand across his sweaty forehead before glancing at the door. He hoped that the man from earlier would return with some bandages. He really was confused as to why there was a small act of kindness in a place full of hate and brutality. It didn't make any sense.

For now all Joe could do was wait, and hope that Steve could hang on for help that may or may not even come.

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 **A** s'ad quietly moved through the building, feeling torn about this whole episode. He had already pushed the limits by bringing water to the Commander, but something- call it the deity on his shoulder, told him he was doing the right thing. The man did not look good, and he knew that Afzal was to blame. _So are you._ His growing conscience told him.

If Afzal found out what he had done...no. His friend was obsessed and blinded by a personal quest, and he was sure that his compassion for their prisoner would not go over well if he were discovered. He cursed his weakness.

The American's words had struck a nerve he didn't even know he had. Every time Afzal's fist had struck the Commander's face, he'd flinched inside. How could he go home to his children and look them in the eye and admit to all that he's done?

His nerves were tight. He hadn't been expecting the pale, deathly look of the man they'd gone to so much trouble to apprehend. And for what?

Suddenly he was terrified of what Afzal was capable of, and yet in that very moment he'd stolen a glimpse of clarity in his own conflicted mind. He knew what he needed to do. What he had to do.

He hurried outside and quickly looked around, like a sparrow fearing the appearance of a hawk. That other man in the cell had asked for bandages, and he'd convinced himself that he could find some.

He shuffled down an alley and was about to enter another doorway by a crossroad, when a voice stopped him.

"Hey, As'ad!"

He stiffened, and turned to pin the owner of the voice with a look of nonchalance. He wore it like a mask, erected to hide his fear of potentially being discovered. His heart raced. "What is it, Omar?" He forced out.

"Surprised to see you in this area. I just finished a run to Lashkar Gah for some supplies. Al-Rashid's request." He glanced around as if he were looking for something. "Afzal with you?"

"No, he's not. I think he's still trying to get information from our prisoner," he lied, trying not to appear too nervous, purposely leaving Omar's observation of his current whereabouts out of his reply.

"Well...I should go. I need to get these inventoried," he casually told As'ad as he raised his arms in show of his items. He turned and shut off the jeep, leaving the vehicle as he walked further in to the town.

As'ad blew out a breath of relief. Too close. He only hoped the man wouldn't seek out Afzal later. With one last look around he headed towards the door and slipped inside.

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 **B** rick was about to enter a crossroad when the appearance of a pair of headlights came into view. He held up a hand, halting Chin and Danny who were on his heels.

"I got movement ahead," he said quietly in way of explanation.

A figure moved in front of the illuminated area, and Chin narrowed his eyes. "Does that guy look familiar to you?"

Another figure came into view, startling the original person. Their voices carried through the still night, although the exact words were hard to make out.

"They all look the same to me, Chin. The clothing, the beard. And this place is crawling with them," Danny replied with frustration.

Brick stared, and lifted his rifle, using the scope to gain a better look at the two men. The second man didn't look familiar to him, and at the moment the first man had his back to him. "Are you sure, Chin? The lighting isn't exactly the best."

"Call it a gut feeling," Chin replied as he watched the interaction with interest.

The second man left, and once out of sight, the first one looked quickly around as if he were trying to stay below the radar. That's when Brick caught a glimpse of the man's face before the latter went into a nearby door. "Well I'll be a donkey's...," he breathed. "It's one of the guys from the desert. We need to follow this guy when he comes back out."

Danny sighed and fidgeted like a race horse ready to run. The news of finding one of the men responsible for Steve's capture clearly had him on edge. "Let's go. Come on," he said impatiently.

Brick lowered his rifle and held up a halting hand, trying to calm Danny down. He understood the detective's anger. He felt it himself. TAC was a good kid. "We are, but we still need to proceed with caution." He turned to glance back at the door, and whatever the Afghani man had gone in for, wasn't large and didn't take too long to procure. Yeah, this guy was definitely up to something.

"Let's go."

Brick moved up and peered around the corner into the open crossroads. Rushing out and getting caught now wouldn't do themselves or Steve any good. Another jeep, further down was running, and the lights were on. There was not a soul around it. Time to move. He waved a hand hurriedly, indicating that Chin and Danny should cross the road. "Go, I'll cover you."

Danny and Chin breezed by him, and moved quietly to the other side, their bodies casting shadows as they passed through the distant beams. Brick waited until they were clear, and when he saw Danny wave at him, he padded across undetected, and into the shadows.

Brick led the way, having noted the Afghani had rounded a corner on the left. They followed at a respectable distance so as not to be seen, but still able to maintain a visual on their person of interest.

The man they were following paused, head turning as his eyes darted around.

"Why does this guy look so nervous?" Danny whispered. "Does he know we're following him?"

"Doubt it," Brick calmly said. "This guy is definitely scared, but it's not 'cause of us." He watched the man take one last look around before opening a nearby door, and disappearing inside.

"Bingo." Brick smiled.

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 **T** he door creaked open and Joe moved away from Steve, to keep up the pretense that they didn't know one another. The same man from earlier entered, hands pressed against his stomach. The man was definitely hiding something inside his robe, and he paused to look back at the door he'd just come through, as if reconsidering what he was about to do.

Joe watched their guest with hopeful anticipation, and he glanced at Steve, checking to see if the younger man was awake. No such luck.

"I have brought you what you asked for," the man quietly said as he approached the cell and kneeled down, pushing the bandages through the bars. His dark eyes shifted from the supplies to rest on Steve.

Joe moved to take the bandages, and he stared at their visitor's eyes, surprised by what he saw. Regret. He had to know. "Why?"

The one worded question carried so much weight and the man didn't take his eyes off of Steve even as he answered. "My family. I am sorry for what has happened. I am ashamed to be a part of this."

Joe frowned, and he quelled his rising anger. It wouldn't do Steve any good to lose his temper now, nor would it be wise to bite the hand feeding them. He didn't know this man, and one wrong move could cause a chain of negative events should their visitor become angry or nervous. "And you think this will fix things?" He heard himself say, his heart ignoring his mind's commands to stow the attitude.

"No," the man quietly replied, ignoring the edgy tone Joe's question was laced with. "But I will not be a part of Afzal's plans, and I do not know how much longer I can help you. My friend has lost his way, and I fear for those in his path. Including myself."

He rose and turned to leave. "Tell the Commander that Afzal lied. His friends are alive." He cautiously opened the door and peered outside into the hall. He took one last look back, dark eyed gaze taking one last look at Steve before resting on Joe. "May Allah watch over you," he offered before he disappeared, the door quietly closing behind him.

Joe stared at the door as if he expected it to swing open once more, his mind processing the information he'd just learned. Afzal. That name was not familiar to him, however he now knew that particular person had a great deal to do with Steve's current predicament.

 _So do you._ The voice in his head rudely reminded him. He shoved the negative thoughts aside for now and slid over to the cell door and he took the rolls of bandages that had been generously and unexpectedly left for them. Picking them up, he moved to Steve and gently began tending to the injured man's wounds. He would do what he could with the leftover water and bandages.

Steve groaned softly at the touch, but showed no indications that he was going to wake. Probably best, Joe mused. Steve's body was under enough stress.

Joe's mind wandered back to the Afghani's words. _'Afzal lied. His friends are alive.'_

A pit began to form in his stomach at the realization of what that implied. Joe knew Steve's team. Those people would follow their friend and leader into the fiery gates of hell if it meant the man wouldn't be alone. He'd witnessed it when he himself led them into North Korea on what could have been a suicide mission to find Steve then, and he knew they would have come here without a moment's pause. If Steve had thought that his team- his friends... no his family, had been killed, it would have torn him apart inside.

Joe had lost men before under his command, and he knew firsthand the kind of emotional burden that could place on someone. In Steve's case, with those people meaning so much to him, the inner turmoil and guilt would have felt like a dagger to his heart.

Joe paused in his ministrations to shakily run a sweaty palm down his face. This was all his fault. He should never have taken on this mission in the first place, and he should never have involved Frank Bama. He was stupid to think that he could do this alone, and remiss in involving someone he knew that knew Steve and his team.

He'd tried to keep this mission on the down low so as to not alert anyone he was even going. He'd wanted to keep Steve out of the danger in coming here, and instead he managed to do the exact opposite.

Steve was here, injured and dying, and his team was god knows where, possibly suffering the same fate.

Joe looked at his sweaty, shaking hands, the regret and guilt laying across his shoulders like an oppressive, heavy blanket. One that he couldn't shrug off.

 _Get a grip, Joe._

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, settling his nerves and the myriad of emotions he was feeling. He had to keep his head in the game.

He'd carefully re-bandaged Steve's midsection, and the look of the injury worried him. He knew shrapnel hit when he saw one, and he was nearly certain that whatever had cause the wound in the first place had possibly left a souvenir behind.

There was little Joe could do other than keep any other debris and dirt from entering, and slow any bleeding. He was concerned about the possibility of further internal damage if there happened to be foreign objects still embedded inside the wound and they happened to shift. If they haven't already. With the array of fist-sized bruising around Steve's torso, he could only hope for the best.

Joe took to using the last of the bandaging to wrap around the puncture wound in Steve's leg. It was the best he could do. He sighed and wiped his blood tinged hands on his pants before moving to sit next to Steve's head, pressing two fingers to the younger man's neck.

The pulse was rapid, and Steve's skin was hot to the touch. Joe let his tired eyes wander to watch the shallow rise and fall of Steve's chest, and he held onto that visual that Steve was continuing to fight this.

Steve stirred as if he were responding to the touch, lips moving as he mumbled, voice quiet and hoarse. "D'nny...no, no... s'rry...m' s'rry." His head lolled from side to side, clearly caught in the throes of a feverish dream.

Joe placed a hand gently on Steve's injured arm to try and calm him. It would do little to try and explain that he believes Danny and the team to be alive. He didn't know that for sure, and Steve was too out of it to comprehend the words.

For now there was little Joe could do that he hadn't already done. There was no secret way out. No magic medical miracle he could produce- and it frustrated him. He hated the feeling of being powerless. Powerless to get them out of here, and powerless to do any more for Steve, who was slowly slipping away with every passing minute.

It was killing him inside to watch, and he had a front row seat.

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 **A** fzal stood in the darkness, his body obscured from view of the doorway to his prisoner's cell room. He didn't want to believe what he had been told. In fact, he'd openly refuted the possibility that his very own friend would be so disloyally stupid.

He's let the matter rest, but he couldn't stop the seed of doubt that had been planted from sprouting. His thoughts wandered back to the interrogation room. He'd been angry at the American for attempting to verbally poison As'ad, and he'd made sure the Commander had suffered for it.

Afzal heard a noise, and sure as the sun was bright As'ad left the cell room, and his expression darkened. His friend was clearly nervous, judging by the bird-like skittish movements. He watched As'ad shuffle down the hall and into a nearby room, presumably to take a break from his heinous actions.

He moved out of the shadows and followed his friend, his anger growing with every step he took, and each passing thought. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them, one way or another.

* * *

 **TBC**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thanks to everyone's continued support for this story. This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, only because it would have been a monster one if I didn't split it. Hope everyone enjoys.**

 **Usual disclaimer applies.**

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" **W** e've found what could be the location that may be holding Steve, Vulture," Brick radioed, voice hushed. "We've got eyes on one of our friends from the desert, and plan to make entry into the suspected building."

" _Copy, Echo,"_ Fox's voice came across the line. _"We are still on hold on the west side. Too hot to make any moves. The square is still crawling with OPFOR."_

"Understood Vulture," Brick confirmed, gaze pinned onto the door their 'friend' had disappeared into. "Will keep you posted."

" _Roger that Echo. Good luck. Vulture out."_

"Sounds like trouble," Chin voiced with concern, as he looked at Brick and Danny.

Brick cast a sidelong glance at Chin, echoing the Hawaiian's concern, his brown eyes stormy. "We can't help them, and we have a job to do. Stay focused."

Danny sighed. "Let's hope our luck gets better." He was more than ready to find Steve and get the hell out of here. Hell he wanted this to be over before it even began.

"Get the door Danny. Slowly," Brick instructed as he and Chin stacked up at the door, preparing for entry.

Danny stood off to the left side and he leaned across, back to the door frame as his right hand reached for the rusted lever, hoping to hell it wasn't going to wake the entire town. He pressed down, and when silence followed he sighed in relief and slowly pushed the door open for them.

Brick moved in, weapon raised as he disappeared inside, Chin on his heels.

Danny glanced around outside before he took up the rear, gently pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click. He looked around at the dimly lit hallway, a slight chill running down his spine. He didn't know why, but this place gave him the creeps. Maybe it was the foul, stale stench that assaulted his nose- the underlying smell of sweat, blood, and urine. Or the fact that he had a gut feeling Steve was here, locked up somewhere like a stray dog. Doors littered the hallway, sporadically placed with no rhyme or reason to them, and he wondered how in the hell they were going to check them all.

The three of them passed by a solid, windowless door, when suddenly it swung open and a man brandishing an AK emerged behind Danny. It only took a moment for the surprised Afghani to recover upon spotting intruders, and the blond had no time to react when he felt a rough, firm arm around his throat. Danny leaned back into his assailant, arms raised as he forcefully grabbed hold of the man's arms, desperately trying to break the vise-like grip around his neck.

Chin quickly spun around at the noise, the scuffling alerting him, and he raised his weapon, pointing it at the enemy's head. "Danny!"

Grey fog began to invade Danny's vision, and he threw his weight into his attacker, and the man took several steps backwards. The tight grip loosened only slightly, and Danny used that moment to draw in a breath.

Chin took a step forwards, muzzle wavering as he struggled to obtain a clear shot. His dark eyes met Danny's blue ones, open wide with a silent plea for help.

Brick turned to assist when another man rushed out the door between himself and Chin, the enemy taking no notice of Brick's presence. The lack of awareness allowed Brick to quickly reach for his blade, and in one fluid motion he drew it out of its sheathe and stabbed the unsuspecting enemy in the back of the neck.

The man fell heavily to the ground with a muffled thud, and Danny knew his attacker's concentration had lapsed by the sudden lessening of pressure on his neck. He slammed the back of his head into the face of his assailant, and he heard the satisfying crack of a nose breaking before the pressure was removed completely. He quickly ducked to the side, giving Chin the shot he needed.

Two muffled bursts erupted from Chin's M4, the rounds striking Danny's assailant's head. The man's body fell to the ground, still.

Breathing heavily, Danny hunched over and stared at the ground before shifting his gaze to his attacker's lifeless face, a sense of relief washing over him. He stood up, one hand rubbing his throat, the other resting on his hip. "Thanks Chin," he praised breathlessly.

"Anytime," Chin replied with a relieved nod, and he turned to Brick, who was standing over the second enemy, retrieving his combat knife from the man's neck. "Thanks for the assist, Brick."

Brick wiped the blade on the dead man's pants before returning it to its sheathe. "Don't mention it," he replied before he gestured to the two dead bodies. "Let's get these two out of sight before someone else thinks this is a party and shows up uninvited."

He grabbed one man's arms and dragged the body into the open doorway, depositing it in the corner. Danny and Chin followed with the second, dropping it next to the first. Brick moved over to shut the door.

"Guys? Over here," Chin called from a nearby table. He pointed at a desert camo backpack.

"That's Steve's," Danny voiced tightly as he approached Chin, his stomach knotting with hope and concern as he reached out to touch the rough material. "He has to be in this building. We need to find him."

Brick cracked the door open and peered out into the hallway. He glanced back at Danny and Chin. "Then we're in the right place." He took one last check of the hallway. "We're clear. Let's go."

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

 **A** s'ad sat down, his hands shaking with nerves. This was crazy- what he'd done. If he had been caught... he dreaded to think what the outcome would be. He'd meant what he'd said to the man in the cell. He could no longer offer any help, and he has done what he could to ease his conscience. Now he must concentrate on his family, and distance himself and them from Afzal and his radical plans.

The creak of a door drew him from his worried thoughts.

"As'ad," he heard a familiar voice say, the tone flat; unfriendly. His heart began pounding as his stomach dropped.

He plastered a half-smile on his face before turning to the voice's owner. "Afzal."

Afzal didn't return his smile, and As'ad warily watched is friend move in closer, expression hard. Butterflies grew in his stomach. He wasn't stupid. Afzal _knew._ He didn't know how. He had been careful- or so he'd thought. He tried hard to keep the truth from playing across his face like a condemning polygraph test.

"What are you doing here?" As'ad asked steadily, managing to keep his fear from filtering though his voice.

"I came to see for myself," Afzal monotoned and As'ad watched the man close the remaining gap between them, and he fought the urge to lean back, displaying his trepidation.

He stared into the dark eyes of his friend, and he could see the anger, betrayal and hatred billowing like a menacing storm cloud, ready to unleash hell any second. And he wasn't so sure he wanted to be in the damage path. Like a town without warning, he knew there was no escaping what was to come.

"I don't know what you mean," As'ad feigned innocently, and it took every ounce of control he had not to spill his guts right then and beg forgiveness.

No, he made his choice, and he knew it was the right one. One his children would be proud of.

"Oh," Afzal chuckled darkly, his tone shifting to the one he'd been using earlier while interrogating the Commander. "I think you know very well about what I speak of, my _friend_ ," he growled as he placed a not-so-gentle hand on As'ad's shoulder.

As'ad tried not to shrink away from the touch, but when he pressure increased he felt himself involuntarily retreating. "I...," he heard himself stammer.

"Shhhh...," Afzal shushed. "Let's take a walk," he suggested as he took a firm hold of As'ad's arm and roughly pulled him to his feet.

As'ad didn't like where this was going, but he had little choice in the matter so he allowed himself to be coaxed into following. He felt Afzal nudge him forwards; could feel his friend's hot breath near the back of his neck. A shiver ran down his spine as his worry increased.

"Where are we going?" He heard himself mumble, voice wavering. He knew he was showing he was nervous, and thereby offering Afzal further reason to suspect him.

Afzal directed him towards the room where the Commander and the other man were being held. He swallowed thickly, feeling as if his mouth were full of cotton.

"I didn't want to believe it," Afzal stated flatly as he opened the door to the cell's room and laid a hand on As'ad's shoulder, pushing him roughly through the doorway.

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

 **J** oe White, seated in the cell with his back against the wall, cracked an eye open at the change in noise. The room had been quiet, save the worrisome, rapid breathing of his weakening companion.

The man from earlier stumbled in, nearly losing his balance. Joe noticed that he kept his gaze averted, as though his current locale made no difference to him.

Joe's body stiffened at the intrusion, his attention heightened. His blue eyes shifted between their two visitors, unsure of what was about to unfold. The fact that their good Samaritan was back with a clearly angry companion meant things were likely about to go south in a hurry.

The man Joe didn't recognize stared at their Samaritan, the former's eyes dark pools of mistrust and anger. The newcomer's gaze shifted to Steve, then back to Mr. Samaritan. "I know you helped him, As'ad," he spat, index finger jabbing in Steve's direction.

"I...,' As'ad stammered.

"Save me your excuses, As'ad. How could you choose this American scum over our great land? Over Allah? Abdul Al-Rashid will have your head for your blatant disrespect," he snarled, voice low and menacing.

Joe stared at the dangerous, potentially explosive engagement happening before him. He didn't like where this was going.

"How could I look my children in the eyes, Afzal!" As'ad blurted, his choice of words a clear admittance of guilt.

"I should have known you couldn't be trusted," Afzal sneered. "However...," he paused, a devious smile growing as he stroked his beard. "Perhaps Allah will be willing to forgive your blasphemy."

Afzal reached into his robes, producing Steve's P226, along with a nine millimeter Glock.

Joe tensed at the appearance of the handguns, and he subtly shifted closer to Steve's unconscious form. These two people were responsible for his friend's current state, and given Afzal's apparent penchant for violence, he grew fearful for Steve's life.

He was not wrong.

Afzal pointed the 226 at As'ad, voice angry. "I'm giving you one chance to redeem yourself As'ad, only because you have been a friend." He thrust the Glock towards As'ad, gesturing with his gun hand. "Take it. Take the gun and put a bullet into the Commander's brain."

Shakily As'ad took the pistol. Eyes wide, he stared at it as if it were a foreign object. His eyes glassed over with worry before his gaze shifted to Joe, and then to Steve's unresponsive body.

" _Do it, As'ad,_ " Afzal pressed, hand raised as the leveled the SIG with As'ad's forehead. "And all will be forgiven. You and I...we could both have a seat next to Abdul Al-Rashid's right hand."

At those words Joe moved, placing his own body in front of Steve's defenseless one. At this point keeping up pretenses took a back seat to possibly saving his friend's life.

"As'ad," Joe began, voice betraying him as it wavered, hands raised in a placating gesture, his worry bleeding through. "Please. Spare my friend. If you need to shoot someone, shoot me instead."

As'ad swallowed so loud it could be heard over the silence hanging throughout the room. The air was so thick with tension it could be cut by a knife. Shakily and slowly he raised the gun as if he were fighting a ghost-like hold on his arm, the muzzle wavering with indecision as he pointed it at Steve.

"Do it," Afzal snarled, voice edgy and angered, and he bared his teeth as though he were a predator trying to intimidate his prey. "Or I will tell Al-Rashid about your treachery, and see to it that your wife and children pay the price." He gestured to Steve. "You would choose this infidel American over your own flesh and blood?"

Afzal watched As'ad, before making a tsk tsk sound. "First, I will kill you if you don't comply. And second, your family. But not before I make sure to pass along your regards."

Joe held his hands out in a halting, calming gesture. "As'ad, there is always another way," he monotoned, voice as hypnotic as he could manage given the dire situation playing out.

"There is no other way...," As'ad nearly cried, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I am sorry Afzal," he blurted out unexpectedly.

Joe's next words died on his lips when As'ad spun, pointing the weapon at Afzal. The Afghani jabbed the muzzle at his ex-friend. "You would kill my family?" He nearly cried. "After all this time?"

"No. _You_ will kill your family," Afzal spat, finger tensing on the trigger. "You sure this American's life is worth yours and your family's As'ad? You have always been weak, my _friend._ "

Joe paused, the standoff before him feeling very much like unexploded ordnance that was just waiting for an excuse to detonate. The question was, which direction the shrapnel would go.

"As'ad...," Joe tried once more.

"Shut up, pig!" Afzal cut him off with an angered bark. "This has nothing to do with you. So unless you want to join your companion, I suggest you stay out of this."

"Today will be the first time my children would be proud of their father," As'ad sadly proclaimed as he pulled the trigger, the bark of his pistol being joined by a second as Afzal fired back.

Joe reacted, and he instinctively shielded Steve with his body, but the burning pain he'd been expecting never came.

Afzal's body twisted backwards as the round from As'ad's gun impacted his shoulder and he yelled in surprise as he fell, his own aim having been slightly redirected. He clutched his wound, a string of expletives forming on his lips.

As'ad's body was thrown off balance, and he stumbled to the ground, falling heavily into a crumpled heap before he rolled onto his back. Crimson began to show as the fabric of his robes grew saturated with blood, Afzal's bullet having struck him in the chest.

Joe, still forming a protective cocoon over Steve, stole a glance behind him. Afzal was pressing a hand against his wounded shoulder, his eyes narrowed with anger. As'ad... did not look so good, and Joe felt a twinge of regret.

As'ad coughed, blood oozing forth from his lungs, coating his lips. The man was dying, and it was obvious that he knew it. His eyes were wide with fear as he struggled to breathe.

Afzal growled as he clambered to his feet, gun hand jabbing roughly through the air in As'ad's direction, punctuating each word. His eyes were wild.

"You forced my hand, As'ad!" He spat, in way of excuse. "You chose the wrong side. Now your family will pay the price." He stepped carelessly over top of As'ad and went to the cell door, jabbing the key in the lock.

He was so angry, the red fog was obviously driving his decisions as he threw open the cell door with a loud metallic bang. He moved towards Steve, and like an angry bull he kicked Joe roughly in the stomach, P226 waving wildly in the air, dangerously unchecked.

Joe's attempt to stop Afzal from reaching them fell short as he felt the man's heavy boot impact his midsection, driving the air from his lungs. He fell backwards with a groan, arms outstretched as he clambered to try and retain his connection to Steve. He cradled his stomach, coughing as he tried to catch his breath.

Afzal was laughing like a deranged maniac as he pointed the gun at a defenseless and unprotected Steve, his finger twitching on the trigger. He was ready to fire when the sound of yelling and gunshots reverberated through the hallway and he paused, distracted. The door swung open.

Joe raised his head in defeat as he looked up at the entrance to their room, expecting the worst. Instead what he saw made his heart nearly jump for joy.

* * *

 **TBC**


	20. Chapter 20

**Thanks to everyone for their support. Hope you all enjoy. Reviews make the muse happy.**

 **Usual disclaimer applies. This is all in fun.**

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" **S** hots fired!" Brick barked as he kicked his pace up a notch, leading point through the dimly lit hallway.

Danny gripped his rifle tightly, his worry increasing as he hurried to keep up. What the hell was going on? Who was shooting?

An Afghani man barged into the hallway, alerted by the shots. He spotted the team, and raised his AK-47 as he shouted, rifle barking as the 7.62 rounds exited the barrel. The rapid travelling bullets ricocheted off walls and showered the team with shards of concrete and sand.

"Take cover!" Brick roared over the noise as he returned fire, crouching down to make himself less of a target.

Danny swore under his breath as he flattened himself against a nearby doorway, occasionally popping out to send return fire at their unwelcome guest. A few of his rounds struck the target, and the gunman fell backwards, his finger reflexively stuck on the trigger causing the AK to fire rapidly as its recoil sent the muzzle into the air unchecked. Bullets hit the ceiling, blowing out several lights and spraying shards of thin glass everywhere like razor sharp snow.

Chin spun around to watch their backs, M4 coming to life as he fired, catching two unsuspecting enemies off guard when they quickly rushed around the corner. "Clear!" Chin yelled when no one else came running in.

"Move! Move!" Brick commanded as he hastily moved ahead and barged shoulder first into the door where he thought the shots had emanated from. The door slammed into the wall with a loud bang, and he covered right before entering, gun raised, ready for potential threats.

Danny's heart was beating a mile a minute. Deep down he knew Steve was here, and he was having trouble keeping it together when he hurried in behind Brick, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He felt Chin hovering behind him, and he drew on the calming presence, even as his eyes took in the heart-stopping scene before him.

The man they had followed into this building was lying on the floor in the middle of the room, a pistol mere inches from his outstretched hand. Blood had soaked the man's robes, and by the shuddering and wheezing of his chest, it was obvious that a lung had been hit.

Danny's gaze didn't linger very long on the fallen man, as his eyes darted to the left, seeking and finally landing on the very person he'd been waiting to find. His heart leapt into his throat. The man from the truck, whose shoulder was wet with blood, was unsteadily using Steve's limp body as a shield, pointing a P226 at Steve's head.

Brick's eyes shifted to Joe, surprise flashing across his face before he replaced it with a frown as he lay eyes on the man from the desert. He raised his HK, levelling it at the grinning Afghani's head.

Danny's stomach was in knots as his eyes wandered helplessly over his friend's body. "Steve….," he croaked, his emotions in turmoil. The more he visually absorbed the state of his partner's beaten body, the sicker he felt. Tears threatened to spill forth and he fought to keep them at bay, blue eyes shifting from Steve's ashen face to bore holes into the man using his best friend's body as protection.

"Let him go," Danny demanded, tone threatening.

Chin hovered in uncertainty next to Danny, fingers gripping and regripping his rifle, brown eyes shifting between Steve and Joe.

"We have done this before, hm?" The man laughed, his narrowed eyes almost daring them to be stupid enough to try anything.

"Afzal… you don't need him any…," Joe attempted to reason when he was angrily cut off.

"Shut up, American," Afzal snarled. "Unless you want me to end the Commander's miserable life right here."

"Please," Danny whispered quietly as he slowly stepped around Brick, not caring how desperate he sounded. He lowered his rifle, letting it hang from the strap as he held up both hands in a pleading gesture. "Please…just let him go."

"Danny….," Brick warned, his eyes tracking every twitch Afzal made.

Danny ignored Brick's words of warning, his hands falling to his sides. He was not going to back down. Not with Steve's life in danger. He was not going to let this man leave with his partner, and his angst increased when Afzal began to move.

Afzal shifted as he awkwardly dragged Steve towards the open door, keeping the SEAL between himself and Brick's aim. "I am going to leave now," Afzal stated plainly, as if he were discussing the weather.

"I can't let you do that," Brick replied, voice edgy.

"Steve?" Danny tried, worried blue eyes searching his friend's face for any sign that the man was aware of what was happening. Steve was out cold. Danny's eyes grew hard as he looked at Afzal. "I said let him go," he reiterated angrily when his pleading approach had yielded no results.

Afzal smiled darkly as he rounded the team and reached the doorway. With a grunt he managed to shove Steve roughly forwards, and turned to flee into the hallway. The sound of bullets echoed after him, as Brick's shots struck the adjacent wall, his attempt to stop Afzal failing.

Danny rushed forwards, arms outstretched as he feebly tried to catch Steve before he hit the dirt-covered floor. "Steve!" He hoarsely shouted as he barely made it to his partner in time. He caught Steve's arms, the momentum and his friend's weight carrying them both to the hard ground.

Steve groaned, his pale, dry lips parting in pain.

"Steve? Babe?" Danny's watery blue eyes roamed over his partner's body, his heart aching. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, as if a suffocating blanket were completely oppressing his chest. Steve's breathing was far, far too rapid and shallow, and he could feel the heat emanating from his friend's skin. Danny placed a gentle hand on Steve's cheek, concerned. His partner was burning up.

Danny's angst turned to anger. Anger at what those men had put his best friend through, and he suddenly had the urge to break something.

"Commander White?" Brick questioned once he'd tore his worried gaze from Steve and Danny. "How in the hell….."

"Later, Sergeant," Joe dismissed with a wave of his hand. "We need to get out of here. I am sure the noise has raised far too many alarms."

"Agreed," Brick stated.

A cough drew everyone's attention, As'ad having been forgotten in the fray. He opened his mouth to speak, the words fragmented.

Chin frowned as he kneeled down, trying to make sense of the dying man's whispered words.

"Tell…I… 'm.. s'rry….," As'ad blew out weakly before his lips stopped moving, unseeing eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as his life slipped away.

Chin sighed and rose, glancing at Joe, eyes questioning.

"He saved him," Joe said in way of explanation. "He could have killed Steve, but he didn't. Instead he chose the path of conscience. For his children."

Danny slowly got up and he slipped his arms underneath Steve's. "Chin, come on. Grab his legs," he guided, ignoring Joe's explanation. He didn't care. Not right now. All he cared about was getting Steve out of this hell hole deathtrap. He didn't have to be a doctor to know that his partner was dying right before his eyes, and it was ripping him to pieces. "Help me get Steve out of here."

Chin shouldered his weapon and headed to Steve's legs. Facing forward he kneeled down and grabbed the SEAL's legs, one in each hand, holding them on either side of his waist. He stayed as close to Steve's knees as he could, so as not to put any added burden on the bandaged calf.

"You have an exit strategy?" Joe asked Brick as he picked up the discarded Glock that lay next to As'ad's body.

Voices echoed throughout the hallway, and Brick's expression grew worried as he looked at Steve. His gaze shifted to Joe, and without answering directly he keyed the comms. "Vulture, we have the package plus one, and we have been compromised. Suggest you exfil to the designated location ASAP. We're on the move now."

" _Copy, Echo. We will stir things up here on route to your whiskey,"_ Fox replied. _"Stay with the plan. Vulture out."_

Brick ended the transmission. "I'm on point. Commander White, you cover us on rear guard. Chin, Danny- we'll protect you and Steve. Keep yourselves between us at all costs," he instructed, all business. He moved to the open door and cautiously peered out into the hallway. "Let's move."

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

" **T** he package plus one?" Lou shot Fox a questioning gaze once Brick's transmission had ended.

"You don't suppose Joe was here too?" Kono voiced as he shifted her attention from her charge to pin Brad with a concerned look.

"Possible," Fox said in reply as he peered out the window at the men outside. So far nothing seemed amiss at this end of town. He wasn't sure how much longer that would last. "There's no other way out of here, so going out the front door's our only option."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Lou said tightly.

"You won't make it out of here alive," the man Kono was guarding spat, a devious, gratified smile on his face.

"You want to bet?" Kono retorted, voice challenging.

"Let's tie and gag these guys and get out of here. Lou? Find me some rope and rags," Fox directed as he kept an eye out the window, sizing up their situation. This wasn't going to be easy, but he had confidence in Lou and Kono's ability. And a little help from Lady Luck wouldn't hurt.

"On it, Captain," Lou confirmed as he breezed by Kono, and went into some of the other rooms. A moment later he returned with some braided twine and some scarves. He pinned the man with a no nonsense stare. "Lay on the ground. Now," he demanded as he pointed at the dusty floor.

When the Afghani didn't move, Kono jabbed him in the shoulder with the muzzle of her gun. "You heard the man."

"Down," Fox reiterated in Pashto.

Worried and scared, the mother hugged her softly crying son before she urged him to lay down, murmuring comforting words.

The man defiantly glared at Kono, his eyes silently daring her to take her best shot. She moved towards him, her hand on his shoulder as she roughly shoved him to the ground. "Get down."

Lou secured the three of them, and then he looked at Fox. "All set."

"Copy," Fox peered out the window, eyes narrowing as he spotted a pickup truck. It was a long shot, but one the needed to take. "See that truck? That's our ticket out of here."

"So how do you want to play this?" Lou questioned, as he moved to the window, eyes probing the area. His gaze landed on the truck Brad was talking about, including the milling group of Afghani that occupied the square.

"For now we still have darkness and the element of surprise on our side. That should allow us to at least make it to the truck," Fox replied, icy blue eyes assessing the group of armed men who were semi- guarding the open square. Most of them looked either bored or tired, if their sluggish, half-assed movements were any indication. The orange-red glow of a cigarette moved about in the dark as the owner took a long drag before flicking the spent butt onto the dusty ground. Yeah, definitely lazy.

"Kono. Lou and I will cover you. Make your way to the back of the pickup. Lay low. We'll be right behind you."

"Copy that," Kono replied. She checked her magazine for the bullet count. "Ready."

"Go," Fox told her with a nod, and he cracked open the door, and watched as she quietly slipped outside. He pursed his lips and looked at Lou.

Lou met his gaze. "You sure this will work?"

"It has to, or we likely won't make it out of here alive," Fox replied grimly before he firmly patted him on the shoulder. "Let's go."

Kono slipped outside, staying low as she moved to a concrete wall, and pressed her back against it. Voices floated through the air nearby and she paused, waiting for the owners to pass.

Fox and Lou moved out into the alley, keeping a respectable distance from Kono. They quietly moved up and took cover behind a nearby water well, rifles ready as they covered her advance.

Fox's seasoned gaze shifted quickly back and forth as he assessed the situation, his senses alert for any subtle changes in the enemies' movements. All looked to be going as planned. He watched the two men pass Kono's location, and once they had sauntered by, he gave her the go signal with a wave of his hand. He whispered into the comms. "You're clear. Go."

Kono snuck to the rear of the truck and climbed into the back. "I'm in position," she said, voice hushed.

"Roger that. Moving," Fox replied. He tapped Lou on the shoulder, indicating that he take the lead.

Lou nodded in understanding and he rounded the well, body low as he padded towards the pickup truck's passenger side.

Fox followed, footfalls quick and precise as he tacitly headed for the driver's door, left hand outstretched as he reached for the door handle. He gripped it and threw it open before climbing in, pulling the door shut behind him to a chorus of shouts that echoed throughout the courtyard. Flashlight beams bounced around, their wielders growing agitated as they rushed towards the source of the noise.

"We've been compromised," Fox called out as he reached for the ignition, not surprised to find the keys hanging from the steering column.

Lou flung open the passenger door and rushed into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him. He stuck his gun out the window, laying down cover fire towards the incoming enemies.

Fox fired the truck to life, the engine roaring as it added to the symphony of AK gunfire. The incoming rounds pinged off the truck's metal body, and Lou yelled over the din.

"Get us out of here, Captain!"

Fox slammed the gearbox into drive and stomped his foot on the gas pedal. The rear tires spun, dusty rooster tails clouding the square as the wheels churned up the earth.

Using the pickup box for cover, Kono laid down suppressive fire, MP7 coming to life, muzzle flash lighting up the darkness like some cheap fireworks display. The hostiles scattered like roaches exposed to light, angry shouts followed by return gunfire.

The truck rushed forwards and Fox made no attempt to avoid two angry Afghani men who stupidly chose to stand directly in the path of the oncoming truck. Their bodies impacted the front end, the large metal bumper knocking them aside like a bowling ball striking pins in an alley.

"We're oscar mike, Echo. Suggest you get your asses out of there. The bee nest has been disturbed and the workers are royally pissed off," Fox barked into the radio as he wrestled the truck through the town.

" _Copy Vulture,"_ Brick's voice came across the comms. _"See you on the other side."_

-H50-

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-H50-

-H50-

 **B** rick slammed the door open with a shove of his broad shoulder, and the fresh night air rushed inside, assaulting Danny's senses. The stagnant atmosphere inside the building, saturated with the overwhelming stench of blood and sweat was making him feel nauseated, and he welcomed the change.

His partner's weight was heavy, and he could feel the man's wet clothing pressing against his own sweaty body, and a slight shudder ran through him at the possible implications. He couldn't suppress the memory of Steve's broken, battered body being roughly held up and used as some sadistic human shield by that maniac. He could only see a fraction of his friend's injuries, and he dreaded to uncover the rest he _knew_ were there.

There was far too much blood on Steve's clothing. Too much covering Steve's too pale face. The pale face that was partially obscured beneath the angry, sunburned skin. Danny clenched his jaw, anger flooding through his body. He wanted to break something. Preferably Afzal's face.

"How are you holding up, brah?" Chin voiced, clearly sensing the anger that Danny was projecting.

"I'll be better once we get Steve out of here, Chin," Danny said, his gaze downcast as he kept watch on his partner.

Joe hovered at the rear, keeping an eye out behind them as they paused, preparing to move out into the town.

Brick looked outside, rifle raised as he fired a burst into the alley way. A muffled, choking sound followed, and he pressed forwards, stepping over the man's body. "On me."

Chin and Danny followed, choosing their steps carefully as the navigated their way over the dead Afghani's body, their hold tight on their precious cargo.

Joe reached the body, and he stuck the Glock he had taken from As'ad into the back of his waistband. He bent over and picked up the AK-47, and pulled back the charging handle to check to see if it was loaded.

"Vulture, we're not far from the Eastern exit. I have a visual on the central road. What's your ETA?" Brick radioed.

" _Nearly there, Echo,"_ Fox's tense voice came across the line, followed by the muffled pinging of gunshots. _"Get to the gate."_

"Roger that. See you there," Brick confirmed as he glanced back at Chin, Danny and Joe. "You heard Fox. We need to make it to that gate."

"Sergeant, you stay here with Chin, Danny and Steve. I'll go ahead and clear a path for you," Joe insisted, blue eyes staring Brick down as if he were expecting him to challenge the idea.

"Commander White-," Brick started with a raise of his free hand.

"Stow the argument, Sergeant," Joe interrupted. "This isn't up for negotiation. You make sure they make it to the truck. Understood?"

Brick's gaze moved from Chin's concerned eyes to Danny's worry-filled ones, before finally landing on Steve. He looked up, locking eyes with Joe before standing down. "Understood."

"Good," Joe replied as he slipped past the burly man, and out into the open.

Gunfire reached Danny's ears and instinctively reacted, muscles tensing as his body prepared for fight or flight. He glanced down at Steve, seeking reassurance that his friend was still holding his own. He bit his lip nervously. "You ready, Chin?"

"Let's do this, brah," Chin said, voice firm and steady. Danny's rock in this raging sea of turmoil.

Joe, firing cover fire from his position, had several hostiles pinned down, and a few dead. A roar of an engine caught his attention and he turned to see a beige pickup barreling down the roadway, gunfire coming from the cab and bed. He hastily waved an arm at Brick between bursts of fire, indicating they should move out.

Brick advanced forwards, his suppressed HK's fire being drowned out by the troupe of unsuppressed AK-47's. He reached the pickup as it slid to a halt just in front of him and he took a knee, using it for cover. "I'm out! Reloading!" He called across the comms.

"Covering you!" Kono yelled from her position as she fired, giving Brick the time he needed.

Fox fired out the driver's window, offering support for Echo's extraction. "How's your ammo, Lou?" He hollered.

"Good so far!" Grover shouted as he fired, rounds striking an enemy. "I don't know for how much longer though."

Brick slammed a new magazine into his rifle and popped up to fire, yelling across the voice channel. "Danny! Chin! Move. Now!"

Danny held his breath in silent prayer that they'd make it out of here alive. He called to Chin. "Go!"

The two men moved as fast as they could go while carrying Steve. The SEAL was not exactly a lightweight, and Danny hung on as tight as he was able. He was sure he was likely hurting his partner, but if they didn't make it out of here, what would happen to them all would be far, far worse.

They reached the truck, and Kono helped Danny and Chin get Steve into the pickup's bed.

"Brick! Joe! Come on!" Danny shouted as he shielded Steve from possibly being hit by incoming fire.

Joe rushed the truck, rounds whizzing dangerously past him, but he reached it without incident, and climbed into the back.

Brick moved, just as a hostile stupidly decided to rush the back of the truck, the angry man's gun raised as it was aimed at Danny's back. Brick swiftly kicked the enemy in the back of the leg, causing the man to fall backwards, gun firing before it tumbled to the ground. Brick raised his rifle, and fired a burst into the enemy's chest.

"Brick?" Fox called out questioningly, unsure if his man had made it on board.

Brick climbed into the truck, a flash of pain crossing his features.

Danny glanced back, eyes drawn to a growing spot of red on the Sergeant's thigh. "You're hit."

"I'm fine. Let's go!" Brick yelled as he banged a fist against the pickup bed's wall.

Fox pressed his foot hard on the gas pedal and the truck lurched forwards, blowing through the wooden gate that blocked the Eastern entrance of Khash. Shards of wood exploded into the air, splinters raining down onto the dusty road as the pickup sped away, en route to Lashkar Gah.

* * *

 **TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

**Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review/follow/fav my story. Hope everyone had a good holiday, and a happy new year.**

 **Enjoy. :)**

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 **T** he beige pickup tore across the Afghan terrain, the occupants weary but tense. Lashkar Gah loomed in the near distance, like an oasis in the middle of a desert. The truck began to decelerate as it approached the town, rolling slowly as it entered. Despite the low speed, the bullet hole riddled chassis drew the attention of some late- night goers, who were taking advantage of the cooler air.

The truck rounded a corner and headed down an alley, stopping near the back by a small home. The dwelling's door opened a crack, and Samir's concerned eyes appeared as he watched the approaching vehicle with caution.

Fox and Lou were the first to exit, and when the former spotted Samir by the door, he met the older man's gaze with a nod. Samir moved away and opened the door wide, standing off to the side as he made room for his unexpected visitors, concern etched into his features.

Fox was through the doorway first, and he clasped a hand on Samir's shoulder. "Sorry to drop by unannounced, old friend, but it was necessary." He watched Samir quietly survey his battle-weary team, and true to the man's character, the reply was not unexpected.

"Anything I can do to help, Brad."

Lou closed the door to the cab and he walked to the rear of the truck to help Danny and Chin carry Steve. He pinned Danny with a look of concern before glancing at Joe, who was sliding to the ground from the back of the pickup bed's floor.

"Good to see you alive."

Joe looked up at Lou and nodded. "Glad to be here." He waved a hand towards Samir's home. "You guys get Steve inside."

Kono climbed out of the back of the pickup bed, and headed inside, and when she passed Fox by the doorway, he grabbed her arm gently, halting her.

"Help Samir gather all the medical supplies." He met her worried gaze before adding, "You did good out there."

Kono nodded grimly, her expression carrying little relief as she moved to head after Samir. Fox let his hand drop from her arm, stepped aside, letting Chin, Danny, and Lou pass him by as they carried Steve inside, gently laying their friend down on a bed in the nearby room.

Brick joined him an instant later, having slid out of the back of the pickup with Joe's assistance. "We got them," Shawn tiredly said to his CO, watching as their three visitors from Hawaii busied themselves making Steve comfortable. "We got 'em." He rubbed a sweaty palm down his face, and Fox reached out, clapping this Sergeant on the shoulder in support.

"Good work," he commended, gesturing to his Sergeant's wounded thigh that was wrapped tightly with a tourniquet the man had fashioned for himself during the ride. "Get that patched up. It's leaking pretty good."

"I'm fine, Sir," Brick dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Steve needs to be tended to first."

Fox peered outside, icy blue eyes scanning the alley before he softly closed the door and turned back to Brick. "Get that looked at. That's an order," he added firmly but gently.

Brick's gaze shifted from Joe to Fox, assessing. "Yes sir," he replied before heading into the back, and into the room where Steve had been taken.

"He's a good soldier," Joe commented as he watched Brick disappear.

"And a good friend," Fox replied as he pinned Joe with a knowing look. "Good to see you alive, Joe."

"I have your crew to thank for getting me out," Joe replied, voice soft. "This is my fault, Brad," he added before he sat down heavily in a nearby chair.

"I'm sure you did what you could to keep the Five-0 team out of harm's way, Joe," Brad replied. "They're resourceful, and I've no doubt they would have found out somehow."

Joe sighed. "That may be, but I doubt some people here would agree with you."

-H50-

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 **A** man walking nearby, narrowed his eyes at the beaten-up truck that rolled through town. Cautiously he followed, keeping to the shadows. He watched the group of people exit the vehicle, his mouth pressing into a thin line before he turned away, and wandered lazily down the street as though out for an evening stroll.

The man slipped into a home, quietly closing the door behind him. He walked into another room, hand reaching out to pick up a black radio from a small, old wooden table.

He depressed the button, voice firm. "Al-Rashid. I think we have a problem."

-H50-

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 **D** anny sat, head in his red, blood-stained hands, body hunched over with fatigue. The last hour felt like days, and his mind kept replaying the events, the images burned into his memory. After getting Steve to Samir's, he'd been in a daze, and he'd been hovering over Steve's too still body, afraid to touch him but not wanting to stray too far lest this be some cruel joke or a dream, and he would return to find Steve was never really here. Safe, with the team.

Chin and Lou had left to allow Brick and Samir some space to work, and Danny had numbly watched his teammates disappear from the room. And Danny had remained, sitting steadfast next to his partner, eyes downcast as he'd stared at his hands in shock, as though seeing them for the first time. They were covered in blood. _Steve's blood._ His best friend's.

He had begun rubbing them together in growing anger, until he'd felt large, solid hands on his shoulders.

"Danny."

Danny had ignored the voice. There was only one voice he's wanted to hear, and that wasn't it.

The pressure on his shoulders increased. "Danny."

Danny's pain-filled eyes had shot up, until he'd locked gazes with Brick, who had gently led him to a nearby chair, where Danny had nearly fallen apart, head in his hands.

So now, here he was, staring as Brick and Samir tended to Steve, tired blue eyes watching them remove the bullet that was still embedded in his friend's shoulder. His mind, however, was anywhere but here. Haunted by recent events, he couldn't erase the image, nor the intense worry he'd felt when he had entered the cell room to find that same bastard holding a gun to his partner's head. Again.

He thought of the last time he'd actually spoken to Steve, that day his friend was about to climb into a helicopter with Tac. If he'd known then what he knew now…

Danny batted away the moisture prickling the corners of his eyes. Now was not the time. He needed to stay strong. For Steve. He wanted to go and be by his partner's side, but he knew he would only be in the way.

His tired, weary eyes roamed over Steve's traumatized body. There was too much blood outside of his friend, but he knew Brick and Samir were doing what they could. He stared numbly as they bandaged Steve's shoulder before they began tending to the injury in his partner's side. The one he had a sinking feeling was severely infected.

"This is definitely a shrapnel hit," Brick stated once he'd unwrapped the bandage Joe had applied back in the cell. "Samir, get me a hot compress. There's not much we can do here without antibiotics, but I can try and drain the injury a bit. I can't risk trying to remove any pieces that I am sure the Commander is keeping as a souvenir. Not without possibly causing more damage. It's too risky."

Danny swallowed thickly but managed to stay silent. He wanted to do anything but sit here, yet he knew Brick was doing what he could.

Brick's ministrations to Steve's side managed to subtly rouse the SEAL from the depths of unconsciousness. Steve's dry, cracked lips parted as he feverishly mumbled one, breathless word between still too rapid breaths.

"D'ny."

Danny's bowed head shot up at the voice, and his heart was in his throat at the almost pleading tone in the trembling, partial word. Faster than a thoroughbred out of the starting gate he was at his best friend's bedside, carefully reaching his shaking fingers out to wrap them gently around Steve's wrist, mindful of his partner's injuries. The skin there was raw, likely from being restrained. His gut clenched.

"I'm here, babe," Danny murmured, voice betraying him as it cracked.

Brick stared at Danny as if he'd wondered just how in the hell he'd managed to make out the softly spoken word.

Danny hadn't caught the questioning look- his attention was solely on Steve's face. A face that was supposed to be full of life as the two of them sat on the lanai, smiling and joking over a Longboard.

Brick watched them for a moment, silent. Once Samir had returned with the warm compress and water, he continued his meager attempts at helping to slow Steve's infection.

Danny's thumb gently rubbed Steve's arm. Whether it helped his friend at all, he didn't know. At the very least it brought himself some comfort. Comfort that Steve was finally, tangibly, back with them. He knew they weren't out of this mess yet, both with their location and Steve's health, but now his partner was here, not dying alone in some hellhole cell in Khash.

As Brick and Samir moved on to rebandage and clean Steve's leg, Danny's mind wandered to an unexpected twist to this whole rescue. Joe. He should be thankful that a friend was there to help protect Steve. Given the messy situation they'd walked in on, something told him that it was fortunate that Joe was there.

On the other hand, Joe was the whole reason they were even here to begin with, and he couldn't help the anger he felt over that fact. Danny sighed, pushing the feeling aside. Right now wasn't the time. He needed to be strong for Steve, and getting worked up over something he couldn't change wouldn't help the situation they were in.

A touch to his shoulder startled him, and he looked up, surprised to see Brick looking down at him with concern in his eyes. He hadn't realized his mind had wandered for so long. Danny offered him a tired, apprehensive smile. "How is he?"

Brick looked slightly awkward, as if he were afraid to tell him the truth. "Well, he's hanging in there, all things considered. I've done what I can with the supplies Samir had. Now we wait for our medevac team to get here. I am sure Fox has already put in the call."

Danny nodded, and he waved a hand to Brick's bandaged thigh. "How's the leg?"

"Nothing a few days rest and some beers won't cure," Brick dismissed with a small smile.

Danny nodded once more, slightly unconvinced, but he let the topic go. His tired eyes drifted to Steve's lax face. How he wished to see his friend's blue eyes open. He felt Brick's hand pat his shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze.

"He'll make it. He's come this far, hasn't he?" Brick said, confident.

Danny wasn't so sure the man felt as confident as he sounded. Either way, Danny was happy to have the support. A ghost of a smile passed across his lips. "He is one stubborn SOB," he conceded fondly.

"Has to be to have joined the SEALs," Brick smiled as his hand slipped from Danny's shoulder. "I need to debrief the Captain," he continued as he moved to the door. Brick paused, casting a glance over his shoulder. "You did good out there."

Danny allowed himself a small smile at the compliment. "Thanks, Brick." He frowned after a moment. "I just wish we'd gotten the guy who did this."

"We'll get him. What's important right now is that we got Steve out of there," Brick said matter-of-factly.

"I know. I'm just angry over this," Danny bit out. He was glad to finally be with Steve, but the urge to have wiped the smug smile off of Afzal's face couldn't be ignored.

"We all are. For now you need to focus on your partner," Brick advised gently. "I'll let you know where we're at with extraction once I get the sit rep from Fox."

"Thanks, Brick. For everything," Danny said to the large man's retreating back as the burly man exited the room.

He turned back to Steve, wearily staring at his partner's drawn, abused face. He honestly had wondered if he would ever get a chance to lay eyes on his friend ever again, let alone see him alive. His heart ached, and he wished he could wave a magic wand and make this whole sadistic fairy tale fantasy go away. Except this wasn't some horror story. It was real, and Steve needed as hospital if he was ever going to survive.

"Hey partner," Danny softly said to the unresponsive face, and he reached a hand out to place it gently on Steve's forehead. The man was burning up. "You need to fight this, babe. Just a while longer until we can get you to a hospital."

Danny blinked away the moisture that was pooling in his eyes, a lone tear trailing its way down a dusty cheek. "You're the most stubborn person I know, Steve." He dropped his head and sucked in a breath. He needed to keep himself together.

Danny leaned his head against the chair's backrest, one hand remaining on Steve's arm, needing the physical contact. He bit his lip and sighed, allowing his tired, heavy eyelids to slide closed. His bicep was a dull ache, and he could feel what remained of his energy dwindling.

Danny hoped that Fox's team got here soon, because deep down he had the sad, sinking feeling that without medical intervention, his partner had little time left.

-H50-

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 **H** e was angry. No, scratch that. He was livid. Afzal paced back and forth in irritation, a frown on his face. Lucky for him he'd managed to make it out of there in one piece, and get into hiding so he could bandage his wound. He'd underestimated the Commander's friends' resourcefulness. In fact he'd also somehow managed to miss the blatantly obvious. That As'ad, his so-called friend, had managed to disrupt and interfere with his plans- right under his very own nose.

Involuntarily he clenched a fist at the deception, and his steps grew firmer. His shoulder throbbed, a painful reminder of As'ad's blasphemy. He planned to make good on his threat; the man's family would pay for what had happened. And Afzal had plans to collect.

He was sure that the American group had managed to escape Khash, if the gunfire and shouting had been any indication. He never acquired any tangible information from his captive, and now here he was, without his grand prize he'd planned to use to gain favour with Abdul Al-Rashid.

Allah was testing him. Of that he was certain. His resolve was strong, and he had every intention of answering the call. Those American infidels had gotten in the way of his plans for the last time. Now he would not be so lenient. He intended to find the Commander and make an example of the man in front of his friends before ending his miserable existence. Afzal planned to show Al-Rashid his capabilities and be one step closer on his climb to the top.

His lips curled into a devilish smile, hand stroking his beard.

The beep of a radio on the table rudely interrupted his thoughts, and he snatched it up angrily, snarling into the device. "This had better be good."

" _Oh, I assure you, Afzal. This is good enough,"_ Al-Rashid's dark voice rasped through the line. _"Good for me. Bad for you."_

Afzal nearly choked on his next words when the last voice he wanted to hear right then filtered through the speaker. "Al-Rashid. Please, forgive my harshness. Had I known it was you I-"

Al-Rashid cut him off _. "You would have ignored the call, I am certain."_

Afzal suppressed his boiling anger. He needed to cool his tongue. "To what do I owe the honour?"

Al-Rashid was not amused _. "Enough. I warned you, Afzal. You promised results, and you have not delivered. I gave you what you required, and you have failed me. For the last time."_

Afzal swallowed thickly. "I will get you your information. I…"

" _Najib has informed me that a group of Americans are in Lashkar Gah,"_ Al-Rashid interrupted angrily.

This could not be happening. His plans were unravelling like a runaway ball of string, and now he appeared inept in front of the very person he was looking to appease.

" _It has also come to my attention that there has been a disruption in Khash,"_ Al-Rashid continued without further explanation. None was needed. Afzal knew he was in hot water, and his suspicions were confirmed when Al-Rashid delivered him an ultimatum. _"Take As'ad, and deal with it. Or I will deal with you,"_ the dark, threatening voice of his leader hissed.

"As'ad is dead," Afzal was quick to inform him. "He was seen aiding the prisoner, and I dealt with his insolence."

Silence answered him, and for a moment Afzal thought Al-Rashid had ended communications. He gripped the radio tighter, the plastic casing nearly cracking under the pressure.

" _Very well,"_ Al-Rashid finally said, tone neither praising nor reprimanding. _"Get me what you promised, because if I have to deal with the American myself, the man will not be the only person I make an example of."_

Static reached Afzal's ears, signaling Abdul Al-Rashid had severed the connection. With a roar of blood-boiling anger Afzal threw the device at the wall, the small box striking the concrete with a crash. Black shards of plastic projectile flew through the air as the radio exploded on impact.

His shoulders heaved with rage. Lashkar Gah. That town of mostly sympathizers or neutrals- someone there must have forgotten who controlled this area. He would be sure to remind them once he was through with the Commander and his friends.

Armed with the American's pistol and his own knife, Afzal stormed out into the night air, shoving aside a stunned bystander as he blew past. Afzal climbed into a jeep, and switching it on he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal.

The jeep's tires spun and dust billowed as Afzal piloted the vehicle eastward towards Lashkar Gah, revenge consuming his every thought.

-H50-

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" **H** ow are they?" Chin asked Brick when the burly man tiredly appeared, limping heavily.

Brick sat down in a nearby chair wearily, looking like he was running out of steam. "Danny's barely keeping it together. And Steve… well he's in pretty rough shape." He pinned his CO with a concerned gaze. "I hope our team is on the way, Sir."

Fox nodded. "They are. I have ordered them to close up shop ASAP, and send in a team for extract. We know our compound's location has been compromised, and I don't want to risk anyone else's safety."

"Listen, Brad. I am sorry about all of this," Joe apologized as he met the other man's gaze.

"It's fine," Brad said with a dismissive wave of a hand. "We needed a change of scenery anyway. I am just glad we managed to find you and Steve."

Samir sat on a chair near the front window, giving his guests some space while warily watching outside as if he were expecting company.

"Thank you. For everything, Samir," Brick quietly said, the deeper meaning understood only by Fox.

Samir heard his name and he turned to Brick, nodding in reply. "You know where I stand, Shawn. I am more than willing to do what I can."

Fox allowed himself a moment to look around the room. Everyone looked to be running low on fuel, and he rubbed a tired hand though his salt and pepper hair. This was a good group of people, and he hoped that this mission would soon be over. For everyone's health and sanity.

"Team should be here in approximately thirty-five minutes. Everyone try and relax. You all look wasted. I know the situation isn't ideal, and I know waiting isn't what everyone wants to be doing," he paused, gauging the mood of the room. "But we are not equipped to make it without more men, firepower, and equipment. Steve is in no condition to be moving without transport, and currently we don't have the ability to properly protect him, or ourselves."

Lou leaned back in his chair, head falling back onto the headrest. He stared at the ceiling. "I hate having to wait here doing nothing when Steve should be in a hospital." He gestured to Brick. "And you're not exactly running on all cylinders either."

Joe sighed audibly as he cast a glance at Lou, before looking at the rest of Steve's team. "Look I am sorry about what has happened to Steve, and for the dangerous situation my actions have put you all in. If I hadn't taken on my personal mission, I…."

"You didn't force Steve, or us, to come here and look for you Joe," Chin cut in, no judgement in his tone.

Joe smiled wanly at Chin in reply, thankful for the support, but clearly unconvinced that he didn't have to assume some of the blame for this. "I know that Chin, and thank you. To all of you. For coming all this way to look for me. I'd thank Danny, but I have a suspicion I'm the last person that he'd like to see right now."

"He'll come around," Chin assured Joe with a small smile. "Once Steve is on the mend, I'm sure Danny will have a chance to think objectively, and reflect.

Joe nodded again, an unconvinced expression returning to his features, but he did look a bit more hopeful. He rose out of his chair and went to the window to stand next to Samir, his blue eyes scanning the area.

Samir glanced up at Joe, a questioning look on his face. "Problem?"

Joe shook his head minutely, hand waving towards the street before he stuffed it into his pocket. "No, Samir, not really." He met the old man's wise, curious gaze. "I just can't shake the feeling that something isn't right. Paranoia, maybe. A lot has happened, and my mind might be overreacting."

Samir stared at the quiet street, pensive. "One's instincts can be amazingly accurate, Commander White."

"I know. And that's what worries me."

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 **A** fzal slowly drove into Lashkar Gah, intent on meeting that idiot Najib who blabbered to Al-Rashid about the Americans. Sure he hadn't known their whereabouts until that call- but he was still resourceful and could have found out on his own. Now his apparent stupidity was on display for Al-Rashid like some moronic circus act.

The thought fueled his anger like gasoline on a fire, and when he arrived at Najib's he was ready to kill anything that remotely looked at him the wrong way. He cut the power to the jeep and climbed out, barging into their informant's home like he owned the place.

"Where the hell are they?" Afzal snarled once he'd found Najib seated at a table, the man sipping a tea like some dumb Englishman.

Najib rose, tea in hand and a smile on his face. "Afzal! Where is who?"

Afzal swatted the cup out of Najib's hand as if it were contaminated. The cup fell into the floor with a crack as it shattered. "Don't be an idiot. You know who I am talking about," he bit out, eyes dark.

"Hey!" Najib yelled. "Who do you think you are?"

"Where. Are. The. Americans," Afzal ground out, jabbing a finger into the man's shoulder with every punctuated word.

A smile grew on Najib's face, and Afzal knew it wasn't because the man thought the situation was amusing. The look had a darker hint to it. "Oh, _those_ Americans," he sarcastically said, the fake smile fading. "This is _your_ screw up, isn't it Afzal? Abdul Al-Rashid was not impressed when I reported in. And now here YOU are, beating my door in and making demands."

Afzal worked his jaw in irritation, his anger level at the boiling point. "I don't have time for games."

"I'm sure you don't, but you don't get to come into my home and start breaking things. This is your mess, not mine," Najib said, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior.

"Fine," Afzal ground out after a moment's consideration. He knew he had no grounds for his actions here, but his anger and obsession were his driving force, and the red mist grew denser the longer this mess went on. He needed to prove to Al-Rashid he was capable. Najib clearly knew he had the upper hand, and if Afzal wanted answers, he would have to be civil. For now.

"Where did you last see them?"

"They were in the central part of town, not far from here. There's a weird old man who lives down a side alley. He mostly keeps to himself, but I am nearly certain that is the direction they went," Najib finished, a frown on his face. He sat down, gaze taking in the shards on the floor. "That was my favourite cup."

"How many of them were there?" Afzal inquired, managing to keep his impatience in check.

"I didn't get a good look; maybe six or seven. One of them looked like he was unconscious. I called it in because they looked like they were American military," Najib replied. "What are you going to do?"

"That is none of your concern," Afzal flatly told Najib. "Take me there now, and you can return to your pointless activity."

"You owe me a cup," Najib pointed out as he got up and headed to the door.

Afzal shook his head at the nongermane comment as he followed Najib outside into the late-night air. It would be daylight soon and he was running out of time to see this through while he still had darkness on his side. He was sure the Americans have called in some reinforcements, and he needed to finish this. Now.

Najib and Afzal walked in silence up the road, and Najib stopped to point at an alley across the way. "Down there."

Afzal's heart rate increased at the nearness of his target, his fists clenching. He said nothing further to Najib before he quietly walked towards the indicated alley. He fingered the knife in his waistband in anticipation.

Afzal stuck to the shadows as he approached. He rounded the corner and came upon a bullet riddled pickup truck. Oh yeah, he'd found the place. Smart to hide the vehicle in the back out of view. But not smart enough to avoid the all-seeing eyes of Allah.

The lighting inside was dim, and Afzal hugged the sides of the truck as he moved in on the home. He could make out several shadows milling about the front room; an area to avoid. He stayed low, and rounded the side of the building, heading to the back portion, nearing a semi-darkened window. He rose up and cautiously peered in.

He spotted the Commander lying on a bed, and the room's only other occupant was the blond that had shown up back in Khash. A few candles sporadically placed around the room danced lazily, their soft light attempting to bring comfort to those inside. Well that comfort was about to be replaced by discomfort and pain. He smiled darkly.

Voices could be heard coming from the other room and he quietly climbed inside through the window, careful not to disturb the slumbering blond, who was sitting awkwardly in a chair at the Commander's bedside.

Afzal walked towards Steve's bed like a stalker and stood next to it, staring down at the subject of his ire with morbid glee. He reached into his waistband and drew out his knife, the low light playing off the razor-sharp blade. He smiled evilly as he looked at Steve, eyes lingering on the man's bandaged shoulder.

He knew there was a bullet wound hidden beneath. He put it there with the Commander's own weapon. Afzal glanced at the blond before turning his attention back to Steve, arm raised as he plunged the knife into the injured shoulder.

Blood began to soak the white fabric around the entry point, and the man below him moaned and stirred, obviously in immense pain. Afzal pressed a dirty, free hand against Steve's mouth, muffling the noises the writhing, weakened man was making.

Afzal twisted the handle, his face a mask of rage and hatred, the red mist engulfing every fibre of his being.

Steve cried out and Afzal pressed harder against the SEAL's pale, sun-burned face, trying to keep the unwanted noise down.

"Shhhhhh…..," Afzal hissed into Steve's ear, his mouth inches from the man's face. He was so involved in reveling in the pain he was inflicting that he didn't catch an important fact; the room's other occupant was stirring.

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 **TBC**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks to everyone for their reviews of the last chapter. Means a lot to me, and it fuels the muse.**

 **A huge thanks to my beta, my Danno. :)**

 **Hope everyone enjoys. Shorter chapter this time.**

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 **D** anny hadn't planned on sleeping, but the events over the past few days had caught up with him, and eventually he'd nodded off, head propped awkwardly against his hand. Recent events assaulted his slumbering mind, and for a brief moment he'd almost convinced himself that Steve was still missing, when the muffled sound of moaning reached his ears. He stirred from his haunted dream, blue eyes cracking open to rest on a dark, robed form hunching over his partner like a grim reaper, sucking the life out of his friend.

Alarmed, he blinked, hoping the figure would vanish like the rest of his bad dream, and when it didn't, his heart leapt into his throat.

Steve, in the pained throes of unconsciousness, was writhing on the bed, unable to rid himself of his attacker.

Danny launched himself out of the chair, and he rounded the bed with lightning speed. He roughly grabbed the robed man's shoulders and pulled.

Startled, the Afghani fell backwards, hand releasing the pressure on Steve's mouth. The man landed hard with a grunt, right hand empty as the knife he'd been holding remained stuck in Steve's bleeding shoulder.

Danny threw himself on top of the intruder, and he found himself looking back into the angry face of the Afghani from the desert. The same man from the cell in Khash who had been using his partner as a human shield. Afzal. The name Joe had spoken came back to him like a bad case of acid reflux.

"You!" Danny growled as he raised a fist, ready to land a vengeful punch on Afzal's jaw when he felt a knee to his stomach. He sucked in a surprised breath, and his balance wavered, which allowed the Afghani to shove him sideways before crawling back to the bed.

As Danny coughed, trying to catch his breath, he helplessly watched Afzal grasp the knife sticking out of his partner's shoulder and roughly pull it out. The man raised the knife into the air, as if he were ready to impale Steve's chest, and Danny frantically clambered to get up, a yell never making it past his lips as he launched himself at Afzal.

Instead of stabbing Steve, Afzal suddenly turned and came at Danny, face red with rage.

Danny crossed his arms in an attempt to block the incoming attack. He grabbed the outstretched arm when it impacted his own, deflecting the motion in a move his partner would be proud of.

Afzal fell to the side and onto his back, and Danny jumped on top of him, his hand grabbing for the man's flailing arm that held the knife. Danny felt the blade catch his forearm, white-hot pain assaulting his senses. He sucked in a breath as he suppressed the urge to jerk his arm away, and he managed to gain a hold of the Afghani's wrist.

He roughly slammed Afzal's arm repeatedly against the floor until the hold on the knife gave way, and the blade fell to the ground. Danny felt the warm tendrils of blood running down his arm as he reached for the fallen knife, fingers wrapping around the handle.

Danny pressed the blade against Afzal's face, his left hand greedily grabbing the brown fabric of the man's clothing.

"Get up," Danny ground out as he hauled Afzal roughly to his feet, and shoved the momentarily stunned Afghani against the wall, blade pressed against the tanned skin of the man's neck. He pushed the sharp tip into the flesh, satisfied when he saw Afzal flinch at the prick, a dot of blood seeping out of the open wound.

His own arm burned with pain but he ignored it, focusing only on one thing. The dangerous man in front of him. Danny's face was a myriad of emotions as he struggled to gain a hold of them, each fighting for dominance. Anger, angst, fear... revenge. All played across his face for Afzal to see, and Danny's blue eyes pinned Afzal's with a look that said 'Give me another reason'.

Unflinching, Afzal stared back, a sadistic smile growing on his face. The look only infuriated the blond more.

"What the hell is so funny, huh? HUH?" Danny added with a shove, when the grinning man didn't reply.

"The Commander is quite the fighter," Afzal began, the smile never leaving his face as he looked Danny in the eye, as if he were searching for something. The smile grew as Afzal had obviously found what he was looking for, putting two and two together. "You're Danny."

Danny didn't like the tone in Afzal's voice, and he increased the pressure on the knife. "So?" He challenged.

"He called out your name. Several times. Despite the fact I'd told him you were dead. I had him convinced," Afzal taunted. "He could have made it all end by simply telling me what I wanted to know. But as you can tell, he chose the hard way."

Danny's heart beat faster as his angst grew. All this time, Steve had thought him dead? The guilt and anguish his friend must have felt- he blinked away the moisture that began to cloud his vision.

"I'm going to kill you, you son of a bitch."

"Oh, I don't think so," Afzal disagreed, voice laced with nonchalance despite his situation, and he continued to antagonize Danny. "You know you really should get your friend some water. He doesn't look so good. You see I tried, but for some strange reason his lungs didn't agree with the offer."

"Shut up," Danny pressed, his anger reaching the redline. "Just shut up." The more he heard, the less he wanted to know. Afzal was trying to get into his head, and it was working.

Afzal ignored the demand. "Next time I shoot your friend, it won't be in the shoulder," he said, voice dripping with malevolence.

Danny's emotions were on a teeter totter, and he was losing control of his rational mind, his decisions driven by his affection for his partner. A tear billowed at the at the corner of his glassy, moisture-laden blues. He was about to let his heart solve his dilemma when a raspy, faint, and pain-filled voice halted him like a sobering slap to the face.

"D'nt…do...do it…," Steve managed to utter breathlessly.

"Steve? Babe?" Danny looked to the bed to see Steve's clouded, blue eyes peering out from beneath slitted lids, and Danny was shocked that his partner was even awake.

"Pl'se….Danny…..," Steve weakly mumbled.

The desperate plea in his partner's voice slowly drew Danny from the depths of his darkest thoughts, and he'd briefly forgotten the subject of his anger was still in the room until a dark, mocking laugh assaulted his ears.

"So touching," Afzal laughed once more. "Too bad neither of you will be alive long enough to really reunite."

Danny's hold on Afzal tightened. "I said, shut up." He increased the pressure, pushing Afzal harder against the wall.

Afzal grinned like a Cheshire cat as he leaned into the knife, face mere inches from Danny's, foul breath hot. "First I'm going to slowly kill your friend, and this time I won't be so gentle. You'll beg me to stop. But not to worry. Your time will come."

Danny had enough, his anger returning full force like a dam whose leak had been stopped by temporary patchwork, as he allowed Afzal's words to get to him. "I'm going to kill you," Danny hissed, and he started to push on the knife when a solid, firm voice halted him.

"Danny."

Danny paused, sharp blade millimeters from an action he might regret for the rest of his life. He stole a quick glace over his shoulder to see the bulky form of Brick standing in the room, body tense, pistol in hand that was levelled at Afzal.

When had the man arrived? Danny frowned as he returned his attention back to Afzal, who still appeared way too confident. Why was that?

Brick glanced at Steve, eyes narrowing at the fresh blood on the SEAL's shoulder. The Sergeant seemed momentarily surprised that Steve appeared to be conscious. He shifted his gaze back to Danny.

"Danny," Brick repeated. "This isn't what you want."

Danny laughed bitterly. "Isn't it? This…. low life, soulless sand-loving jerk tortured Steve. My friend. And now he has the… the audacity to come here and inflict more pain? To threaten us?" Danny's hand shook, tentative hold on his emotions slipping away. "This man got Tac killed, Brick. And you want to just let him live? I….," Danny nearly moaned with the immense emotional pressure, haunted visions of when he first lay eyes on Steve's beaten body in that scummy cell.

Brick's finger hovered just outside of the trigger guard, as his eyes shifted throughout the dimly lit room, assessing the situation. He was not getting through to the emotionally torn blond.

Steve's soft, pain-filled voice reached Danny's ears once more. "Dan'o… Don't…"

Danny grabbed hold of the familiar tone as if the words were a lifeline, and he hung on, stopping himself from dropping into the dark pit of despair and revenge.

"He _hurt_ you, Steve," Danny pointed out, voice breaking as he tried to keep himself together.

"N..not y'…you… p'rtner…pl'se….," Steve rasped, the task of trying to speak taking a large toll on him. He sucked in a painful breath.

The pain in his partner's tone; the plea in his friend's voice; deflated Danny's anger like a balloon with a slow leak. Steve was right. This wasn't him. He'd regretted the day he'd killed Reyes, and he'd lived with that decision every single day. Afzal needed to pay for the acts he'd committed, and death would be too easy an exit for someone like that.

Defeated, Danny let his arms fall to his sides, and backed up to walk away from a grinning Afzal, preparing to let Brick take over. He hadn't noticed the Afghani's change in posture, his attention too thinly spread, mind distracted.

He was about to fully turn away when instead he abruptly spun back towards Afzal, right hand balled into a fist as he landed a solid, angry punch to the Afghani's face.

Afzal's head snapped to the side, blood dripping from his mouth.

"Get this guy out of my sight, Brick," Danny ground out as he turned away from a maniacally laughing Afzal, the man's teeth covered in blood. Danny turned to move back to Steve's bed.

Afzal's face morphed into a mask of hatred and blind obsession as he stared at Danny's retreating back, hand slipping inside his robes. In one swift movement he revealed Steve's P226, pointing it in the direction of the two men. "Allahu Akbar."

"Gun!" Brick yelled as he spotted the weapon.

Danny knew what was happening between the second Afzal spoke, and before Brick shouted one of the last words he wanted to hear right now. His hair stood on end as his heart knew who was the target. The one person who had been the focal point for Afzal's hatred since his whole fated mission went sour. Steve.

Danny reacted with little regard for his own safety as he instinctively placed himself between his partner's defenseless body and Afzal's aim, shielding Steve from what was sure to be certain death.

Two shots rang out, breaking the tension with explosive force, and Danny fell forwards, roughly landing on top of Steve. His ears rang and a searing pain emanated from his shoulder, nearly paralyzing in its intensity. He grabbed at Steve's clothing, could feel his partner's excessive body heat beneath his clenched fingers.

"D'ny..?" Steve's breathless question was heartbreaking to hear, his partner's worry palpable. To Danny, the question brought relief. Steve was alive.

"I'm fine, Steve," Danny managed unconvincingly as he slowly detached his hold on his friend and collected himself. He sucked in an unintentional breath and looked at his shoulder. A through and through. The wound bled, tainting the fabric of his shirt.

"Li…ar…," Steve whispered, his face a mask of pain, eyes tightly shut.

Danny almost smiled at the comment. "Well I learned from the best, babe." Danny pressed a hand against his injury, trying to staunch the blood flow from the exit wound. He watched Steve's expression grow lax, and for a brief second Danny was about to panic, until he'd noticed that his friend had lost the battle with unconsciousness, the rapid rise and fall of his chest indicating Steve was still alive. His eyes drifted to the hole in the bed's mattress, where the bullet had embedded itself. Had he not done what he had….

He felt lightheaded and listed, his balance wavering as the adrenaline wore off, and the full extent of his wounds began to impact him. Brick was immediately at Danny's side, hand pressed against the back of Danny's shoulder.

"Is life always this interesting with you two?"

"With Steve around, yes," Danny smiled painfully, which turned into more of a grimace. He turned his head, blue eyes landing on the lifeless form of the man who started this nightmare, his expression turning serious.

Afzal's arms were splayed out next to him, Steve's pistol loosely gripped in the cold, dead fingers. The man's brown, soulless eyes lay wide open as if in shock, and the neat bullet hole in the center of his forehead trickled blood down the side of the tanned face.

"Thanks, Brick," Danny whispered. No elaboration was needed, the words alone carrying a lot of emotional gratitude. He couldn't thank the man enough. For everything.

Brick nodded, expression softening. "Call me Shawn, Danny."

Danny studied the battle-hardened man's face, seeing the seriousness there, the extension of complete trust, and what that meant to someone like Brick. They'd been through so much in such a short period of time, and he was honoured to be thought of as part of their tight knit group. He returned the nod, grateful. "Thanks, Shawn."

A commotion at the doorway reminded Danny they were not the only ones here, and he turned to see Joe moving right to Steve, hands reaching out to put pressure on the seeping wound. The older man looked tired and haunted, and when his blue eyes locked with Danny's, Danny averted his gaze. Too soon.

Fox came further into the room and approached Brick and Danny. "Everyone ok?" He called out, pistol in hand, icy blues probing the room, finally coming to rest on Afzal's dead body.

"Everything is under control sir," Brick replied as he kept pressure on Danny's shoulder, guiding the blond to a nearby chair. "Sit down, Danny, before you fall over."

Fox nodded. "Understood…I'm going to find out how close our ride is. They should be here any minute." He gestured to Afzal's dead body. "I'll make sure someone cleans up here and ensure that Samir is looked after for his help. He may need to be relocated."

Fox turned and slipped past a concerned Chin, Kono and Lou, their questions all being fired in his direction at once.

The doorway became congested as the team had rushed to Steve's room when the shots rang out. Muffled, urgent voices filtered to Danny's ears, and he closed his eyes with fatigue, attempting to tone down the growing volume.

"Hey," Brick's concerned voice bled through Danny's auditory defenses. "You sure you're ok?"

Danny weighed the question. Was he ok? He wasn't so sure. He was alive, yes, and his shoulder hurt like hell. But his emotions were a wreck. His runaway train had crashed long ago, and until he was certain that Steve was going to be fine, he had zero chance of healing himself.

"Danny?" Brick questioned once more, uneasy tone more apparent.

Danny cracked open his eyes to see Brick staring him in the face, worried. He offered a sad smile. "I will be once we get Steve to a hospital and I know he'll be ok," he answered honestly.

Brick nodded in understanding, hand reaching out to accept a roll of bandage and some gauze Joe had passed to him.

"I got Steve's shoulder wound under control for now," Joe told the Sergeant, wearily. He turned to leave. "I'll go brief the troops."

Danny winced as Brick tended to his shoulder. "Thanks for trying back there," Danny said, right hand waving towards Afzal's body. "I uh.. I guess I wasn't exactly thinking clearly about the repercussions over what I wanted to do."

"I did what I could, Danny. Steve is the one you need to thank. Guess you only have ears for your partner," Brick noted with a small smile.

Danny snorted softly. "Yeah well lord knows he never listens to me, so one of us has to be the receptive one." He smiled fondly.

Brick secured the bandage, eyes drifting to Danny's bloody forearm. "That bastard got you good." He observed as he quickly dressed the wound.

Danny's gaze left his forearm and drifted to Steve. He hoped Fox's team would be here soon, and as if Fox had been reading Danny's mind, the older man returned, poking his head into the room.

"Time to go, gents. Let's get out of here."

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 **TBC**


	23. Chapter 23

**I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. The muse has been in a bit of a slump, so progress has been slower than I'd like. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me.**

 **I'm no medical professional, nor have I been to Kandahar - and while I've done a little research and looked at some pictures of the area, this is still a work of fiction. I hope you'll enjoy it for what it is.**

 **Thanks as always to my beta, my Danno. Love you, girl.**

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 **F** ox's evac team arrived in three vehicles, two regular Humvees and one that had been converted into a medical unit. The Humvees parked near the alley's opening, the medical vehicle backing down the road so that it could be protected should there be any unforeseen disturbances.

Fox pulled open the door to allow his men to enter, and he nodded at the chorus of 'Sirs' that were spoken as they passed. He addressed the two medics with the stretcher. "In that first room, gentlemen. Let's get the Commander loaded up and evac ASAP."

The uniformed men breezed into the room, and with practiced ease they loaded Steve onto the stretcher, and headed out door with haste. Danny hurried out after them, intent on sticking as close to his friend as he could, and when they loaded Steve into the medical vehicle, he had every intention of riding along.

"I'm staying with him, no exceptions," Danny said firmly, and he didn't wait for the medics to reply before he gingerly climbed into the back, seating himself next to Steve.

Fox gestured for Brick and the Five-0 team to head out the door once Steve had been safely loaded up. "Let's get a move on. The less time we spend here the better." He pointed at two of his men as Chin, Kono, Lou, Joe and Brick passed by him on their way out. Brad patted Samir on the shoulder as he met the gaze of one of the men. "Corporal, see to it this man gets settled in a new locale. This place is no longer safe for him, and he is a good friend."

"Yes sir," the Corporal responded. "We'll look after him."

"Very good," Brad said with a nod. "Then we're Oscar Mike. I don't know if there are any other men from Al-Rashid's group on their way, but we're not equipped to stick around and find out."

Samir looked around his home, a look of acceptance on his weathered face before he met the blue-eyed gaze of Brad. "I will miss this place, but I am glad I could be of help." He turned and headed out the door of his home for the final time, the Corporal leading him towards one of the Humvees.

Brad watched them go, his mouth a thin line. He pulled the door shut as he exited, and when he reached the front Humvee he climbed in next to Brick. He addressed the Private driving. "Lead the way, son."

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 **T** he three vehicles pounded the dry land as they raced to the military hospital in Kandahar. They ran in standard convoy formation, with the two non-converted Humvees at the front and rear, protecting the medical vehicle. Fox's men were armed and alert, and their eyes scanned the area for any signs of pursuers. There were none.

The ride to Kandahar was quiet, as were the vehicle's occupants. The Five-0 team somberly watched the scenery pass by, each alone with their thoughts. Chin glanced over at the worried Kono, who was staring out the window, biting her lip in silent apprehension. He placed a supportive hand on her shoulder, and she shifted her gaze to meet his, a wan smile of thanks crossing her lips. It was enough.

Danny nervously watched the medics work on his partner, their movements hurried but precise as they began assessing Steve's vitals. They had inserted an IV into Steve's arm, and had quickly placed an oxygen mask on the unresponsive man's face.

Danny's mind was in a haze, and he heard the medics listing symptoms like blood loss, infection, and the dangerous possibility of hypovolemic shock, and his stomach clenched into a twisted knot. His heart beat faster and he slammed his eyes shut with the nervous rush that washed over him. He leaned forwards, covering his face with his hands.

He must have moaned because he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes to find one of the medics; Tyler- Danny thought the man had said was his name- hovering next to him, a look of concern on his face.

"Are you ok, Sir? Let me check your wound-," Tyler began when Danny interrupted him.

"It's Danny," he said softly, correcting the man. "And no… please. Please just keep my friend alive." Danny brushed off Tyler's gently probing hands.

Reluctant, Tyler nodded, clearly not liking the fact Danny was brushing off his attempts to offer aid. He looked to Steve. "We'll take care of him, don't worry. Captain Hunter knows some of the best doctors at the base."

Danny wanted to believe the young man, but looking at Steve, and the dire condition the man was in was breaking Danny's heart. He bit his lip and pressed his palms into his eyes, using the pain from that and his throbbing shoulder to keep him grounded.

It wasn't long before their convoy rolled up to the hospital, although to Danny the trip felt like hours. Hours of watching three men attempt to keep his best friend alive. Once the vehicles had come to a stop, doctors rushed out to the medical Humvee and pulled open the doors. Danny watched helplessly as Steve was loaded onto a gurney, and rushed inside.

He clambered out slowly, his own injuries finally catching up with him. His left arm felt like it was on fire, and he grabbed the Humvee for support, head bowed. Danny felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. A nurse. He was sure she had asked him if he was ok, and that he should let her help him inside. He couldn't think, and after a moment he found himself nodding at her next words, whatever they were, and he let her lead him into the hospital.

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 **T** he waiting room in the Army hospital wasn't large, which differed from other military hospitals. This area of Kandahar was plagued with bouts of unrest, and there wasn't much in the way of multi-level, full scale hospitals around. It was the polar opposite of Tripler when it came to looks.

Alone, Kono sat on one of the cushioned chairs her elbow leaning on an armrest, her head resting against her hand. Her tired, brown eyes stared at a spot on the floor by her feet. Every so often she heard the shuffle of shoes, or the mumble of voices pass by her. She was too tired and emotionally torn to conjure up the energy to steal a glance at the passersby. This whole situation had worn her out, and her guilt over the events she considered to be partially her fault, ate away at her each passing moment. She tried to put up a brave front, but her ohana; especially Chin; saw right through her as if her skin were transparent.

Chin must have sensed her thoughts, because not a moment after a familiar pair of boots appeared in her field of view, and she looked up to see her cousin standing there, two cups of hot coffee in hand; a compassionate expression on his face.

"How are you holding up, cuz?" Chin inquired softly as he held out a hand, offering her a cup.

Kono knew Chin's question was loaded, and she was not prepared to discuss, or make peace with herself yet. Not until Steve was on the mend, and she had a chance to apologize. She took the coffee gratefully, a sad smile on her face. "I'll feel better once the boss is out of surgery."

Chin gave her a knowing look, but he didn't pursue the matter. "I know what you mean," he replied as he sat down beside her with a heavy sigh. "Steve is strong. He's made it this far despite the odds. We just need to try and stay positive." He glanced around curiously. "Where's Lou and Fox?"

"Lou went to check on Danny, and Fox went to see Brick and to talk to some of the doctors he knows," Kono informed him, as she gnawed on her lip. "He wanted to make sure there weren't any unanswered questions, given our real reasons for being here." She looked past Chin to see Joe approaching, and Chin turned to follow her gaze.

Joe stopped next to the cousins and tiredly lowered himself in to a chair next to them, a wince slipping past his drawn features. Kono thought the older man looked like he'd gone a round or two with a pro wrestler. He had several bruises on his face, and was moving like a 90 year old man.

"You ok, Joe?" Kono asked him, and she began to wonder if the man should be laying down, rather than sitting out here with them, or wandering around the hospital for that matter.

Joe dismissed her concern with a wave of a hand, indicating they shouldn't worry. "Doc says I've got some bumps and bruises, and a mild case of dehydration. Nothing that some rest and water won't cure. Any word on Steve?"

Kono shared a worried look with Chin before she sighed and shook her head. "Nothing. Lou went to make sure Danny was ok. He was sure that Danny would be anxious to find out about Steve and wanted to make sure Danny didn't tear the place apart to get to the boss."

She noticed the slight flinch that crossed Joe's features at the mention of Danny, but she knew to leave well enough alone for now. In fact she understood completely, despite the fact she knew his demons were far worse than hers, she still understood. Joe seemed to feel the same way as he spoke, avoiding the topic of the fiery Jersey native altogether.

"Well they have some of the best trauma doctors stationed here. Steve is in good hands," Joe offered with a pensive smile as his gaze dropped to his hands, thoughtful.

Brick slowly hobbled into the waiting room, his thigh bandaged, single crutch held awkwardly under his arm. He looked angry, as though he'd been ordered to use the aid. He sat down heavily, mumbling something about 'not needing stinking crutches'. He approached the trio and stopped next to them, gaze meeting each one of theirs before he jabbed a crutch at one of the chairs. "This seat taken?" He questioned dryly before he sat down, not waiting for anyone to answer.

Kono hid a small smile behind an over exaggerated sip of her coffee. She couldn't help but find Brick's style of humour infectious, and right now she was happy for the lightheartedness, however small. Her respite was short when she spotted Fox approaching them, all business, his emotions hidden behind a well-used Captain's visage.

Fox addressed the anxious looking group. "Well I've managed to keep our real agenda on the down low," he told them quietly as he leaned against a nearby wall, arms folded. "They couldn't tell me too much yet about Steve's condition, so at this point we'll have to wait and see. They've got him in surgery now. I am sorry I don't have any more information for you all." He looked around, a small frown forming on his face. "Where's Danny and Lou?"

"Danny hasn't come back yet from being looked at, and Kono said that Lou's gone to check on him, and make sure he doesn't get too unruly with the staff while on his quest to find out how Steve is doing. In fact, Lou's probably got his hands full already," Chin joked with a fond smile.

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 **A** knock on the room's door caused Danny to look away from his bandaged forearm, his mind having been elsewhere. The door cracked open and Lou stuck his head in. "Any word on Steve?" he asked the tall man, voice laced with concern.

Lou slipped inside, softly closing the door behind him. His expression was somber. "They won't really tell us anything, and since everyone had themselves scattered about the hospital, I told Kono I was going to come check on you."

Danny pressed his lips together and his attention shifted back to the doctor. "Doc can you hurry up? I need to go see my partner," he grumbled impatiently as the doctor wrapped his shoulder. This guy was not easy to persuade, as he found out after several prior attempts to speed things up. The Doc drove a hard bargain.

"Detective Williams, as I told you, Commander McGarrett is in surgery. He is in the best of hands. You need to just relax and let them look after your partner," Doctor Clarkson calmly advised him.

Defeated, Danny threw his right hand into the air and blew out an exasperated sigh. He knew the man was right, and he also knew that the Doc was doing his job –tending to Danny's injuries. But that didn't change the reality that Steve was there, and he was stuck here. Sure there was nothing he could do at this point to help his partner, but that didn't make his desire to stay close to Steve any less pressing. And not knowing what was going on was far more damaging to him emotionally.

He played a different card.

"Doc, listen. I haven't seen my friend in what feels like days, and I've spent the last hour watching him fight to stay alive, helpless to do anything for him. So please. Hurry up and finish with me so I can at least go and be close to him. For my own sanity."

Lou leaned against the wall, arms casually folded against his chest, expression tight. "You might as well relent, Doc. Danny doesn't give in easily, especially where Steve's health is concerned."

Doctor Clarkson sighed as he finished applying the bandage to Danny's shoulder. He cradled the blond's arm as he gently put it in a sling. "I see there's no convincing you. Normally I'd have you rest here for a bit, but if you promise to take it easy and notify someone if you experience any acute pain, and continue to take the pain meds, you can go see your partner." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "Trust me Detective. You're not the first person who has asked me to hurry up or to even forego treating them so that they could go be with a fellow comrade."

Danny nodded in understanding before he slipped off the bed stiffly. His left arm throbbed minutely from his shoulder to his forearm, and he knew the low-key pain was due to the meds that were already in his system. He dreaded what his arm would feel like otherwise. "Thanks, Doc." He walked to the door. "Lou, lead me to Steve."

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 **D** anny watched helplessly as the doctors buzzed around Steve like a hive of angry bees. Lines snaked into his friend's body from what felt like everywhere, and he wished this to be all some bad dream- one that he would wake up from. Lou shifted beside him, quiet. The worry emanated from the tall man in waves, and Danny was thankful for Grover's steadfast presence, because he knew he was teetering on the cusp of losing his tentative grip on his emotions. He glanced up.

"Thanks, Lou."

Lou's gaze shifted down and he gently laid a hand on Danny's uninjured shoulder. "No thanks needed. We're ohana, right?"

Danny nodded, his expression tight. "Why does it always seem like we get the short end of the stick, hm?" He blurted out, anger lacing his tone.

"I don't know, man. Nature of what we do. You know Steve never would have forgiven himself if he didn't at least try to find Joe," Lou reminded him. "I'm just glad we were here to back him up. Otherwise…"

Danny sighed at the implication, hand wafting towards the operating room. "So now Steve is fighting for his life because of Joe. I…"

He was cut off by the wailing of an alarm, and his blue eyes trained on the hectic movements of the operating staff as they milled about Steve. He pressed an anxious hand against the window, voice wavering. "What's going on?"

He spotted a nurse rushing towards his friend's room and he intercepted her, voice borderline frantic. "What's going on?" He repeated. "I need to know."One of his worst nightmares was unfolding before him, and he _needed_ to know what was happening to Steve.

Sensing Danny's emotional distress she gently touched his arm and flashed him a wan smile before she maneuvered her way around him, hurrying inside to assist.

Danny moved as if he were going to rush in after her when he felt Lou's hand on his arm.

"Danny wait."

"Wait? Wait for what?" He bit out angrily; frustrated. "For Steve to die in front of us?" He pulled his intense blue eyes away from Lou's concerned face to risk a glance at the window only to see the doctors with a crash cart. "This isn't happening…..no, damnit."

Lou increased his hold, his own worry etched on his face. "Danny, you need to stay here and let them do their jobs. Please."

Danny's shoulders drooped and he stopped trying to remove himself from Grover's grip. He couldn't take this anymore. His heart felt like someone was trying to rip it out with their bare hands. He felt Lou's hand fall from his arm as he moved to the window like a zombie, staring at the scene playing out in front of him.

Lou stood just behind Danny, silent.

There was blood on the doctor's scrubs. Too much of it. Danny saw Steve's beaten body arching up off the bed as the man's heart was shocked, in hopes of returning the flailing, confused organ back into rhythm.

Suddenly Danny felt like he couldn't breathe. This was not happening. He clenched his hand into a fist as he watched the doctors give it a second try, and after a second he heard the wailing noise fall silent, and he saw the surgical staff pause. He saw the relief cross their features, their body language telling Danny that his friend was still alive. Steve had fought another round with death and had survived.

Danny ran a shaky, nervous hand through his damp hair, adrenaline rushing though his body. He blinked the tears from his eyes. Too close.

A tired nurse came out of the room- the one who had rushed past Danny minutes before. She met Danny's gaze before approaching him and Lou.

"Well, he's made it through the surgery. Some shrapnel inside his wound had nicked an artery, causing internal bleeding, and in the Commander's current state the additional blood loss caused him to go into hypovolemic shock. We managed to locate the source of the bleeding and stop it, but the added stress to his system caused his heart to go into arrest. The defibrillation attempts were successful," she told them with a small smile.

The nurse touched Danny's arm gently, and he realized he must have gone rigid like a statue, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He couldn't find the words, his brain was an emotional mess.

Lou was the one to speak. "So what's his prognosis?"

"Well, he's stabilized, and he's past the worst. Now he needs to rest so his body can fight the infection and recover. He was severely dehydrated- that coupled with the blood loss and his physical injuries… the Commander has a long road ahead of him."

The words hit Danny like a ton of bricks, and he grasped onto the much needed good news that Steve had made it through surgery. That in itself was a feat. Now his partner needed to rest, and Danny had every intention of being there for every minute.

"Thank you…," he managed finally, his mouth finally catching up with his mind's commands to find some words. "Anything we can do? Steve and I are the same blood type….I can donate if needed," he offered quickly.

The nurse smiled. "I think you both look like you need to get some rest yourselves." She looked at Danny's shoulder. "That goes double for you."

Danny opened his mouth to argue when the nurse raised a no-nonsense hand.

"Get some food. Sit down. Rest," she commanded firmly. "We have enough of the Commander's blood type in stock, so you just concentrate on getting better, ok? Besides, we need to get your friend settled into ICU, and if you've taken my advice perhaps we'll be able to allow one visitor in at a time."

This woman drove a hard bargain, Danny mused. Must be the Military influence. He didn't like it, but she was right. He was hungry and tired, and there was little he could do for Steve at the moment, as much as he wanted to stay. Reluctantly he nodded. "Deal."

"Come on, Danny," Lou offered as guided the blond towards the direction of the breakroom. "Let's get some food and go talk to the rest of the team. Tell them what's going on."

Danny took one last look through the window at his unconscious partner, and he glanced up at Grover before he turned and walked slowly down the hallway, Lou falling into step beside him.

-H50-

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 **C** hin looked up when Danny and Lou appeared, eyes concerned. "Hey Danny. Lou," he hesitantly greeted, keeping his voice quiet since Kono had dozed off, her head resting upon Chin's shoulder, face drawn.

Kono stirred at the sound of her cousin's voice, despite the Hawaiian's attempts to let her rest, her dark eyes cracking open. "How's the boss?" she asked groggily when she noticed Danny and Lou had returned.

Danny met the group's gaze with a sad smile. He had little energy to put up any kind of front right now, and given the situation he knew he should feel better about Steve's condition, but it was too soon for celebration.

"He uh… he made it out of surgery. They said his body's weak from infection and blood loss, and couple that with the severe dehydration and trauma…," Danny murmured as he aimlessly walked towards a nearby chair, collapsing into it.

The group was quiet as they processed the information Danny had just relayed to them, and to be honest he was glad for it. He set the sandwich he'd been carrying onto a chair next to him, appetite lost. He stared at a point on the floor between his feet, as his mind replayed the hurried, nervous commotion in the OR as the alarms blared; the arching of his best friend's body. He slammed his eyes shut against the image, as if in doing so the memory would disappear.

"Danny?" Chin asked, worry in his voice. "You alright, brah?"

Danny opened his eyes to the concerned faces of his friends; old and new; and he blew out a shaky breath. He wasn't telling them everything, and he could tell they knew he was holding back. "The shrapnel cut an artery and he was bleeding out on that damn table. His heart couldn't handle the additional stress, and he coded right there in front of me. He nearly died, Chin." He knew he was going to lose it if he had to wait too long to see Steve. He needed to be with his friend- to see Steve's blue eyes open, and to hear the man tell Danny he'd be ok. Danny wasn't complete without that, nor could he begin to heal.

Lou walked over to Danny and placed a comforting hand on the blond's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Guys we all know Steve is strong. The man is one of the most resilient guys I've ever met. He's made it this far, and if anyone can fight to overcome the hurdles ahead, it's him. We just need to stay positive."

"Hoo-ah," Brick said quietly but firmly in support of Lou's statement.

Danny knew Lou was right, and given the expressions of his teammates, and Brick's declaration of…. well whatever that was…they thought the same. They needed to stay positive, for their own sanities as well as for Steve's sake. They made it this far, didn't they?

-H50-

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 **S** teve felt like he was floating, his mind seemingly separated from his body as though he were observing his physical self from above. Had he died? This didn't really feel like what he'd always imagined heaven would be like. He was sure he'd had a strange dream, and seen snippets; almost like visions; of his dad. It was quick, like a page out of one of the moving flipbooks, that appeared too abruptly to single out one single image.

His body felt numb, and the absence of pain was unnerving. Recollections of immense pain and the feeling of being on fire, and so very hot, fleetingly breezed past him and his mind recoiled at the memory, almost fearful.

His traumatized and tortured mind regressed to protect itself, unwilling to face the prospect of having to deal with more pain.

Steve remained lost in the depths of unconsciousness, as his nearly-broken body attempted to recover, his mind refusing to surface.

* * *

 **TBC**


	24. Chapter 24

**Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me throughout this story- I appreciate the support. Extra thanks to all the people who take a few moments to review.**

 **I wouldn't be this far without the unwavering support of my beta - Mahalo Danno. ;)**

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 **F** ox sipped on a coffee, the hour-old brew offering little comfort. He'd taken up residence in the waiting area, intent on keeping watch on Steve's team, making sure they were looked after. It was in his nature, and as someone who had many years of leadership under his belt- it was just a habit. Something he did. He heard Brick fidget beside him, knowing his man was likely already frustrated about the restricted activity. Normally he'd give his Sergeant some busy work, but unfortunately their situation made diverting Shawn's attention difficult.

Given the circumstances, he was sure everyone in this room could use it.

Brad sighed, allowing his gaze to wander over the battle weary crew. He felt for them. Understood their fears, their emotions. He'd been there far too many times himself.

Chin was staring at the ceiling, as though the man had been counting the millions of tiny dots littering the ceiling tiles. Clearly he was lost in deep thought, and judging by the troubled look on the Hawaiian's face, Fox figured the man's mind must be going crazy over the what ifs.

Kono's head was propped up by one hand, the coffee cup in her other long since forgotten. She looked beaten, and Fox had a feeling that her sense of guilt was still eating away at her emotionally. Brad considered her a strong woman, and her performance during the op in Khash was proof of that. He wished he could give her some good news, but at this point, what else could he say?

Lou was talking quietly to Joe, their voices hushed, expressions somber. Fox assumed they were comparing notes for the last several days. Both looked tired, and when Joe kept stealing glances in Danny's direction, Fox figured out what they were really talking about. The Detective hadn't exactly been subtle about his feelings on the matter once they'd made it to Samir's, and now that Steve was finally in the hospital, Fox hoped that Joe and Danny could bury the hatchet and move on.

And speaking of Danny… the short, uptight, passionate blond hadn't sat still for the last half hour, and Fox was sure the man was currently wearing a hole in the tired, yellow linoleum floor. Danny's left arm was in a sling, right hand stuffed into a pocket- the blond's legs were the only part of his body moving, and the nervous energy was emanating off of him in waves.

An approaching man in scrubs halted Danny's pacing, and the blond looked as though he were going to rush at the Doctor and demand answers, but instead Fox was surprised when Danny managed to stay put, and look on, anxiously expectant.

"We've got Commander McGarrett settled into his room, and I am sure you are all anxious to see how he's doing," Doctor Hesh began, voice firm yet gentle. "But I would like to keep the number of visitors to a minimum for now. One or two at a time."

"How is he Lieutenant?" Fox inquired, knowing that very question was on the forefront of everyone's minds.

"He's holding his own, Sir," Hesh replied with a sympathetic nod. "We had a nervous moment in surgery with the shrapnel wound, but we managed to get him back and he's fought to stay there. We're pumping him full of antibiotics and fluids to combat the infection, blood loss and dehydration. We've also got him on intravenous hydration to help cool his body down. His fever was quite dangerous," he met Fox's gaze. "You got him to us just in time, Captain. I don't think he would have lasted another half hour."

Hesh paused, allowing the words to sink in. "There was also severe damage to the tibia in his leg. Earlier when we spoke, you mentioned a crash?"

"That's right. The helo he was flying went down. We assumed the injuries to his leg and side were from the crash," Fox told him. He pursed his lips, blue eyes meeting the Doctor's knowingly. "You know the rest."

Hesh nodded grimly. "We were able to set the fractured bone with a surgical nail technique, which to put it simply, uses long nail that goes through the front of the knee right into the tibia. We set it with screws on either end to keep it in place while the leg heals. And since we needed to stitch and be able to monitor the knife wound we couldn't go the cast route. It was the best choice given his line of work and situation. Give him a more stable recovery." He met the room's unsure, timid gaze. "I know this isn't what all of you wanted to hear. We've done all we can, and now the rest is up to the Commander."

Fox watched Danny carefully, and he decided that the blond was in too much mental and emotional shock to voice the question he was sure was on the tip on the man's tongue. He knew his suspicions were right when Chin piped up to assist, obviously sensing the same.

"Why don't you go first, Danny," the Hawaiian urged with a nod and an encouraging smile. "Steve needs you as much as you need to be near him. Go."

Hesh gestured openly in the direction of Steve's room, and Fox watched an anxious Danny find his feet and begin moving, walking past the Doctor who fell into step alongside.

Brad's gaze wandered about the room at the remaining occupants. The mood felt as though it had risen slightly, it was about time. Even though Steve had a long road to recovery ahead of him, the news that the SEAL was stable brought much needed respite to the crew from Hawaii. And to Brick and himself as well.

They'd already hit rock bottom. Now it was time they began their slow climb back up to the top.

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 **D** anny stood stock still in the doorway to Steve's room, Hesh having long since left him there, but not before making sure he was ok. Danny stared at his friend, feeling as though he were frozen in time, or as if his legs were made of cement. He couldn't bring himself to approach.

Steve looked too still. A man normally full of action, life, and what Danny sometimes called craziness –shouldn't look this way. Quiet, beaten and hollow. He bit his lip and he willed his mind to command his feet to move, and he hesitantly stepped closer to his friend's bedside.

"Hey babe," Danny managed to whisper, voice breaking. There was no reaction. Danny hadn't expected one. He collapsed heavily into a sparsely padded chair next to the bed, blue eyes roaming Steve's body.

The cuts and bruises on Steve's face were colourful against the sunburned skin, their presence more obvious now that the tones had grown darker and more prominent. A nasal cannula was providing his friend some added oxygen, and Danny hated how vulnerable Steve looked. The hospital gown covered most of the bandages Danny knew were there, but he could still make out the edge of the one around Steve's shoulder. Danny quelled his rising anger. Those men who did this were gone now, and finally Steve was where he needed to be – in a hospital.

Light gauze was wrapped around Steve's arms, likely to keep all the cuts clean. Danny sighed as his gaze drifted to Steve's leg. He couldn't make out much due to the bandaging, but the skin around his friend's knee looked bruised and angry, and Danny was sure the rest of the man's leg looked very much the same. He vaguely remembered Dr. Hesh explaining something about Steve's tibia fracture, and to be honest he was so zoned out due to information overload that he barely registered the words Hesh had said; let alone completely understand them.

Frustrated, Danny wiped away an errant tear that had trailed a salty, wet line down his cheek and decided to focus his attention solely on being there for his friend. A solid presence. It was all he could do. He reached a hand out to tentatively wrap his fingers around Steve's. The skin was still far too warm for Danny's liking, but it was a far cry from the almost searing heat his partner's body was radiating not long ago.

"Not sure if you can hear me, Steve, but…," Danny whispered as he rubbed a thumb against the back of Steve's hand. "But you need to use some of that stubborn, pig-headedness to fight and get better. I know Grace would love to see her Uncle Steve happy and healthy," he added with a gentle smile at the thought of his pride and joy.

He blinked his eyes, unwilling to remove his hand away from Steve in order to wipe the tears away. He didn't know what else to say, and he sat in silence for a few minutes, just watching his friend breathe. Danny lowered his head, a soft, mirthless chuckle echoing as the most ironic thought entered his mind. He looked up.

"You know most of the time I can't keep my mouth shut, and here I am at a loss for words."

Danny stared at Steve's lax face, gaze drifting to the multitude of IV's entering his friend's body. "The team is anxious for you to get better. And Fox… and Brick," he paused, thoughtful. "Brick is a lot like you in many ways, babe. I think you both were cut from the same cloth. Yours might be blue, his is…well…. whatever colour the army wears."

He smiled fondly. "I still think the material is the same. Strong and loyal. Pointy and rough at times on the outside, soft on the inside." He squeezed Steve's hand gently. "And here I am gushing with compliments; so you need to wake up buddy so you don't miss them. I –"

A click of a latch halted his next sentence and he turned his head to see who was at the door. His mood soured.

"Can I come in?" Joe hesitantly asked, and Danny guessed he wasn't very subtle with the displeased expression he knew crossed his face.

"I can't stop you," Danny quietly retorted before he returned his attention back to Steve, body tense. He wasn't ready for the conversation he knew was going to happen. He didn't have the energy for it, but he also didn't have the energy to try and stop it.

Danny heard Joe close the door quietly, cautiously almost as if he thought any loud noise or sudden movements would cause Danny to blow up like an unexploded grenade. Joe moved into Danny's line of view, walking to a chair on the opposite side of Steve's bed before sitting down slowly. Danny guessed that Joe had his own share of injuries to contend with. He felt a slight wash of guilt at his own callousness.

"Hey son," Joe said as he leaned forwards to touch Steve's shoulder fatherly. "You need to fight this and come back to us." He sighed sadly and leaned back, blue eyes staring at a spot on the bed as if he were mesmerized by the sheets. An awkward silence followed until Joe cleared his throat. "I know you blame me for this," he stated quietly.

Yeah. The one thing Danny didn't want to get into right now. Joe just _had_ to go there. Of course he couldn't just come and sit here in silence. No that would have been way too easy. His response was out before he had time to police it. Bitter. Angry. His guilt from moments ago forgotten.

"Well gee Joe, what do you think? If you hadn't come here in the first place, we wouldn't be here. Steve wouldn't have spent days in the desert. Alone…wounded."

Joe glanced up at Danny, lips pursed, silent. Joe's expression told Danny that man had been prepared to accept a verbal barrage; that one had been expected. And Danny had done exactly that. Only now the door was left open, and his foot was in. The blond couldn't stop himself, his shambled emotions taking over in full force.

"Those men killed one of Fox's people, took Steve. Tortured him. Nearly killed him, Joe. Hasn't Steve endured enough of that?" Danny's hand shook with adrenaline, and he quickly ran it through his hair in an attempt to disperse some of the energy, his blue eyes stormy.

Joe nodded, his face a mixture of regret and acceptance. "You think I wanted this?" He began quietly, non-combative. "I purposely kept Steve out of the loop because I knew he'd want to help."

"But you contacted Frank, Joe," Danny argued. "You didn't think he'd reach out to Steve if something went wrong?"

"A lapse in judgement," Joe said, tone sincere. "I ended up causing the very thing I'd sought out to avoid," he added with regret. "Look, I don't know what else to say, Danny. I'm sorry. I didn't do it on purpose, and if I could trade places with Steve, I would. In a heartbeat."

Danny had no reply. What could he say to that? He knew damn well Joe didn't do this on purpose, but he couldn't seem to quell the anger he felt. Irrational or not.

"Steve was told you'd been killed," Danny heard Joe whisper, and his gaze shifted from Joe to Steve, his jaw rigid as he gritted his teeth, and he clenched his right hand into an angry fist. The memory of the words Afzal said to him while he had the man at knifepoint at Samir's came flooding back like a tidal wave.

"I know," Danny replied, angry. The emotional anguish and guilt Steve would have felt….. "Afzal told me." He met Joe's gaze.

Joe's brow furrowed at the news, but he continued on, seemingly unsurprised. "I tried to ease his pain the best I could. But he was far too out of it to understand what I was telling him. I did what I could. I owed him at least that much."

Danny sighed. He was glad Joe had been there with Steve, or things could have been far, far worse. Some of his anger dissipated. He needed time. Time to process the immense amount of emotional and physical stress.

Most of all, Steve needed to wake up and get better. Danny knew that only then would he be able to forgive, accept, and let go. "I know," he managed once more, and he returned his hand to Steve's arm, needing the contact, gaze resting on his friend's lax face.

Joe slowly rose, the chair grinding as the legs moved against the tired floor. He walked to the door, pausing as once he'd opened it. "I'll go let the others know how Steve is doing. Keep talking to him, Danny. Sometimes a familiar voice can be the best medicine."

Danny heard Joe leave, the door clicking softly shut. He blew out a breath, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. The conversation had drained what little energy he'd had, and he felt his eyelids growing heavy. It wasn't long before he'd dozed off, chin dropping towards his chest, hand limply resting on Steve's arm.

-H50-

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 **S** teve's mind had been reluctant to return to the previous sensation of immense pain, and it was more than willing to drift in a dark limbo, existing under the blanket of unconsciousness, despite his commands to the contrary. Voices, familiar, had filtered through to his murky brain, and he'd struggled to make out the words, only to give up shortly after, frustrated.

One of the voices though, had given his muddled, stressed mind a second pause. He'd returned his attention to it, reaching, seeking the feeling of comfort and security the tone had brought to him. He'd grasped onto that voice and held on as tight as he could, for fear of losing himself further into the darkness, and using it as a lifeline. A safety net.

A moment of panic nearly set in when the voice had gone quiet, but he still felt the presence there somehow. Watching. Protecting. He'd allowed the feeling to envelop him. Embrace him.

He'd immersed himself in the blanket of comfort; for how long he didn't know. He drifted for some time in a neutral state, neither willing to surface or to fall back into the darkness of deep unconsciousness. Until the moment that the fog Steve felt like he was trapped in moved as though a gentle breeze swept through it, subtly dissipating the tightly knit molecules. The mist began to lift, and with it the pain-free, almost dream-like sensation he'd been experiencing.

He clawed his way through the mist that remained, gaze heading towards the light as he bridged the gap between his unconscious world and the world of reality. Steve groaned, unsure if the sound he made was within his mind, or if he'd voiced the sound aloud. His whole body felt as though it were beaten, as if he'd been used as a piñata for some sadistic party.

He felt a warm presence on his left arm. A gentle, soft touch that stood out against the breath-robbing sensations the rest of his body was sending to his muddled brain. Steve groaned again, throat dry and coarse, like the texture of sandpaper.

The warm presence shifted this time, and he longed for the return of the touch; the feeling of security. A tired, rough and concerned voice filtered through the remaining fog.

"Steve?"

His name. That voice. The touch. He grasped onto the familiarity of the tone, fingers twitching as he feebly searched for the warm, secure sensation that had been rudely taken away.

"Babe?" The touch returned, tentative almost.

He knew that voice. Knew it as if it were his very own.

"D'nny." He tried to speak, but the word came out garbled, his voice unwilling to co-operate. Steve felt the cool touch of an ice cube against his dry lips, and he allowed the soothing moisture to trail down his throat.

"Dan..ny," Steve tried again, better this time. He hesitated to open his eyes, should this be some cruel dream, and he would find himself alone once again in the hands of his two captors.

"How are you feeling, babe? You need me to get a nurse?" Danny's voice was tired; worried. Like he hadn't slept in days. Just what day was it?

Steve licked his lips, ignoring the questions. He knew the voice that he's heard before. The one that made him feel safe. Secure. "You're here…. N..not dead." He'd had fleeting memories of Danny being near him, when his own body felt as though it were burning up from the inside out. But he also had the memory of a dark, hateful voice full of toxic words, telling him his best friend was dead. That his team was dead. Something told him he needed to ask the question.

"Yeah, Steve. I'm here. Alive," Danny replied, and Steve could hear the hitch in his friend's voice. The sadness there. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Steve slowly cracked his eyes open, seeking the visual confirmation to go with the verbal one. He needed to see for himself. _Had_ to see for himself. Bright light assaulted his tired blues, and he slammed them shut again. He heard a noise as Danny's shifted, and the comforting touch left. He heard his partner's voice return, suddenly further away.

"Better?" Danny questioned.

Steve cautiously cracked his eyes open once more to a dimly lit room. "Mmmmhmmmm." He took in the white, pasty ceiling tiles. "Hospital?" He questioned quietly, as Danny's blurry form approached. The blonde sat down, warm hand immediately returning to Steve's arm. Steve blinked his eyes tiredly, attempting to clear his vision.

"Yeah, Steve. We're in Kandahar," Danny softly informed him. "And before you ask, everyone is ok. We're safe. All of us. We got you and Joe out."

Something in Danny's tone when he'd spoken Joe's name told Steve that his friend wasn't happy, and Steve wasn't surprised by the possibility that Danny was holding a very large grudge. Could he blame him?

"How long?" He had lost track of the days since the crash, and eventual capture in Dashti Margo; and since then time had seemed to stand still. It felt like he'd been gone for weeks, but he suspected it was less than that.

Danny rubbed a thumb against Steve's wrist, and Steve decided that his friend needed the contact just as much as he did. "You've been here for three days, and before that… hell Steve. It felt like weeks to me." Danny met Steve's tired gaze with one of his own.

Steve analyzed Danny's overall demeanor and physical appearance, gaze drifting to his partner's arm that was cradled in a sling, and heavily bandaged near the blond's shoulder and bicep. "What happn'd?" He rasped.

Danny tracked Steve's gaze to his arm, and he waved his right hand, dismissive. "I'm fine."

"You s…sound like me," Steve softly sparred, and he saw a small smile fleetingly pass across his friend's lips.

"Babe, compared to you, I _am_ fine," Danny gestured to Steve's war-torn body, before his hand quickly returned to the comfort of Steve's arm. His expression was somber. "Are you sure you don't want me to get a nurse? You must be in pain, Steve."

"Not..yet… meds make me sl'py," Steve replied. He really could use something, but he wanted answers to some questions, and he knew he'd only pass out once the pain drugs kicked in.

Danny watched him obviously unconvinced but to Steve's surprise he didn't argue. The blonde nodded and absentmindedly began to rub Steve's arm once more.

"I didn't think we'd ever see you again, Steve. Once your helicopter crashed and we'd managed to find it, and what was left, I….," he took in a breath, the words tumbling out freely, jumbled and abridged. "We found the dead pilot, and evidence you'd been there…. And then at the cave." Danny blinked his eyes as though trying to rid the moisture that was forming as he recalled the past events. "And when we'd finally found you; those two idiots threatened to kill you if we didn't let them escape. I was sure we would get to you too late, and I'd find you dead."

Steve felt the guilt wash over him at having put Danny, and the team, through such emotional hardship. This whole thing turned into one gigantic mess. "I'm sorry, Danno…,"

"No! No, you have nothing to apologize for, Steve," Danny cut in quickly, almost aggressively. "This is not your fault. Joe is the person who set this in motion."

"Danny…," Steve tried, but his friend had wound himself tighter than a knot, and trying to convince him of anything at this moment would be futile, and Steve didn't have the energy.

"Don't defend him, Steve. While I am grateful he happened to end up in the same cell as you, it still doesn't absolve him from getting us…getting you involved," Danny argued, frustrated. "You could have died, Steve. Hell you nearly did on that operating table!" He jabbed a finger towards a random location, as if indicating the surgical room's direction.

Steve stared at the agitated face of his partner. He'd obviously had no idea that he'd nearly died, although some of his visions, feeling and images from the past made slightly more sense now. He swallowed thickly. He understood why Danny was so riled up and angry at Joe. There was no one else here to place blame upon.

"I'm sorry, Danny," Steve repeated quietly, voice hoarse from dryness and lack of use.

Steve saw Danny's expression soften as though his friend just realized the stress he was probably adding. "I was afraid, Steve," Danny admitted softly. "And will you stop apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for."

Steve really wanted to ask about how Joe got there, and what happened to Afzal and As'ad, but if he were totally honest with himself for once, he knew he didn't have the energy for that talk. Let alone be able to stay awake much longer. He suddenly felt extremely tired, and the short conversation with Danny had sapped his meager energy reserves. The physical pain he'd been tolerating was growing more insistent, to the point where he couldn't ignore it any longer. He closed his eyes.

His face must have shown his discomfort as Danny's voice, unusually gentle, reached his ears. "Let me get a nurse for you Steve. You need to rest. I can tell you're in pain, so don't try and deny it."

A creaking of a chair signalled Danny's movement, and Steve kept his eyes shut, a rising bout of dizziness and the pain making him feel nauseated. All was quiet for a few minutes until a female voice spoke.

"I'm Sandy. How are you feeling, Commander?" She said gently. "On a scale of one to ten, how's the pain?"

Steve didn't need long to form a reply, as currently it felt like someone was stabbing his side with a knife. In fact his whole body hurt. "Nine," he mumbled through slightly clenched teeth. "Nauseous." He added honestly, eyes pressed shut. The sudden onslaught of pain was surprising, and breath robbing in its nature.

"Is he ok?" Danny's said, his voice full of worry.

"I'll increase your pain meds, Commander, and get you something else for your nausea. Press the button next to your right hand if you don't feel any relief shortly, or if the pain gets any worse," Sandy instructed as she adjusted the drips next to Steve's bed.

"M..ok..," Steve bit out. Worse? He hoped to hell this was the worst he was going to feel. He gripped the bedsheets roughly with clenched fists, willing the pain to subside. He breathed in and out as deeply as he could manage.

Moments later he felt the bliss and floating feeling that pain meds usually brought him, and while the nausea hadn't yet subsided, the drugs they were giving him were taking over, and he could feel himself drifting off, sleep taking hold. His grip on the sheets relaxed as his body succumbed to the medication, his breathing evening out.

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 **T** he nurse turned to Danny. "The nausea's likely just a side effect of the drugs we're giving him to fight the infection. His temperature is nearly back to normal, and it looks like the saline drip has helped greatly with the dehydration. I'll have someone come and give him something for his nausea."

Danny nodded quietly, eyes drifting to Steve's face.

"I know it all sounds bad, but trust me. He's on the right track," she added with a small smile. "The fact that he's awake so soon and talking a little is a very good sign."

Danny met her concerned gaze, before his eyes shifted back to Steve, his lips pressed together.

"You should get some rest. The Commander will likely be asleep for a few hours at least, and while I am sure you want to stay here, you need to take care of yourself, Detective. One of your friends will be able to keep him company."

Danny pulled his gaze away from Steve to stare at Sandy's kind, gentle gaze. After a moment of consideration he nodded.

"Come on. Let's get you and your friends something to eat," Sandy convinced Danny as she took him gently by the arm and led him out of Steve's room, and down the hall to where the team was waiting.

* * *

 **TBC**

 **Reviews are like my ammo. They keep me firing. :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**I want to thank everyone who spared a moment of their time to leave me a review. It really means a lot, and your words of enjoyment are great encouragement, and are also wonderful payback for the time it takes to create and craft a chapter. Puts a smile on my face. Thanks to the guests too who review, as I can't thank each of you personally in PM's.**

 **Mahalo to my beta Danno. Thanks for all your support and it's good to see your own muse feeling the excitement again.**

 **As always this is simply for fun.**

* * *

 **S** teve had slept for several hours, and into the next day, his body having surrendered to the need to take some time to recover. The pain meds he was on added to his sleepiness, just as much as they allowed him to get some shuteye without feeling every bruise, every injury and every stitch. While his body rested, Steve's mind had been in more turmoil.

Although the dark place he'd been in while unconscious had been replaced by light, and the feeling of security now that he was in a hospital, he couldn't shake the other, deeper sensations. His team was safe and alive, and that knowledge alone brought him a sense of relief and comfort. What he couldn't stop were the memories of Tac, and the flashing images of their burning helicopter. Or the dark sneer of hatred and malice on Afzal's face as the man loomed over him, threatening. Demanding.

He retreated to the land of the living, choosing to be awake and deal with the physical pain, rather than be haunted by his memories. Steve stirred, cracking his eyelids open to the bright light of the Afghan day as the sun creeping through the blinds assaulted his eyes. He squinted, attempting to get used to the intensity.

A creak of a door drew his attention and he shifted his hooded gaze over to see Kono apprehensively entering his room, her expression one Steve couldn't decipher. Her mannerisms, however, seemed timid. The way she came in; the manner in which she moved; the way he could see her watching him. Stealing glances in his direction as if she were afraid to approach. In his opinion Kono looked guilty. He couldn't stand to watch her slink around any longer.

"Hey," he croaked, startling her.

Kono jumped as though she were caught doing something wrong, and Steve guessed that she'd thought he had been asleep, as she was clearly surprised he'd spoken. Her gaze sought out his, and a small smile graced her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Aloha, boss," Kono managed and she moved towards his bed, easing herself into the chair that he was sure Danny had been glued to. In fact he was surprised there wasn't a sign on it stating it was 'Reserved for Danny Williams'.

Kono bit her lip apprehensively and seemed very unsure of herself. Steve watched her though tired eyes, and she fidgeted with a loose thread on her pants, gaze downcast. This was very out of character for her, and he decided to get to the bottom of things and find out what was going on.

"Kono, what's wrong?" He asked, his voice still raspy from sleep, blue eyes filled with concern.

Kono stopped picking at the errant thread, her brown eyes cautiously rising from her lap to meet his gaze. Steve could tell she needed another gentle push.

"Hey," he tried once more, softly. "Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, right? I'll always have your back."

Kono drew in a deep breath as though she were diving head first into something she wasn't quite ready for, and for a moment Steve thought she wasn't going to tell him until she suddenly blurted out an apology.

"I'm sorry, boss."

He frowned in confusion, and Kono's gaze dropped back to her lap as if she were ashamed. Sorry? What would she have to be apologizing for? His frown must have been interpreted the wrong way, because Kono shifted in her seat, clearly about to make a hasty retreat.

"Hey," he halted her planned exit. "What are you apologizing for?" he inquired gently.

She meekly met Steve's gaze once more, her eyes filled with regret and possibly self-recrimination. "I got you into this," she mumbled.

"I don't understand," Steve replied honestly. What was she talking about? How could Kono possibly be responsible? She had nothing to do with what happened.

"I should have been able to spot that enemy helicopter sooner on the radar, and if I'd been able to keep the connection open maybe we could have found you sooner. Or if I'd been able to stop the pickup truck-," she rambled and Steve cut her off, in order to stop her from digging herself deeper into a pit of self-imposed guilt.

"Kono," he started, exhaling gingerly as a stab of pain rose in his side. He pushed the feeling away, keeping his concentration on her. "There was nothing more you could have done, or anything different that could've changed what happened. We severed the link, Kono. To protect all of you. They could have traced the comms right back to you, and to Fox's compound. It was a risk I was not willing to take."

He paused, offering her a small smile of encouragement. "I trust you, Kono. With my life. I know you would've done whatever was humanly possible to help me. So please… stop being so hard on yourself, ok?"

She was quiet as she appeared to consider his words, absentmindedly biting her lip. "When I saw the burnt helo I thought….," she sucked in a hitched breath at the recollection.

Her words brought on his own guilt he'd been carrying like an oppressive, heavy blanket. Tac's death. He closed his eyes in regret.

"Boss?" Kono asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I'm fine Kono," Steve assured her when he heard her unsure tone. He opened his eyes once more to rest them on her face, her brown iris' pools of worry. He hated to see her like that, so he decided to level with her. Kono had already been carrying too much guilt around.

"I was thinking about Tac, and how I could have prevented his death. I should never have allowed him to man the door gun," Steve said, gaze distant as his mind's eye returned to that agonizing moment when he'd caught sight of Tac's bullet-riddled body. The instant he knew there was nothing he could do to save the young man's life.

Kono stayed quiet, her expression compassionate as she listened to Steve recall what happened that day. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, eyes sad.

"He was shot… the enemy helo was all over us and he managed to damage it enough that it eventually came down. Our tail rotor had been hit… I couldn't recover our bird." Steve closed his eyes once more in deep regret, heart aching. "The fire was raging, and I had to get out while I could. My leg had been pinned in the crash but I'd managed to find a way to free it. Tac was already gone, and there was no way I could have gotten him out. I barely made it myself…."

Steve felt a gentle touch to his arm, and he opened his eyes to see Kono's brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Boss…there was nothing else you could have done for Tac, and what he did in that dangerous situation wasn't anything you wouldn't have done. Am I right?"

She was right. In fact he would have immediately switched places with the younger man if they hadn't been in the heat of an aerial battle. He sighed and nodded in agreement. It still didn't make him feel any better about what had happened to Tac, but he understood her point.

"I hated having to leave him there. It goes against everything- but at that moment, I had no choice," he admitted with regret. He was trained to leave no man behind, and while his moral compass had been egging him on to get Tac out, he knew he wouldn't make it himself if he'd tried. And then the man's death would have been meaningless. In the end, Tac saved his life.

"You'll be relieved to know that when we'd found the site of your crashed helicopter, Fox radioed in to have his team come and get Tac's body, Steve. You didn't leave him behind. He was rescued," she assured him, hand resting on his arm in a show of support.

Steve smiled sadly, the knowledge that Tac would get to go home was a huge relief, and it was then he felt as if an oversized weight had been lifted off his chest.

"Thanks, Kono," Steve said softly. Something had told him Kono would understand, and he was glad he decided to let his barrier fall long enough to let her in. He realised that the Hawaiian's guilt she had been carrying over what had happened to him, was not dissimilar to his own self-reproach. And if the look on Kono's face was any indication, she had obviously come to the same conclusion.

She smiled, the first real, genuine smile Steve had seen from her in a while, and she wiped the moisture from her eyes, her mood lifting. "Thanks, Boss."

Steve smiled softly at Kono, and he gingerly reached out to gently pat her hand in a show of support. "Anytime," he assured her.

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

 **O** ver the next couple of days Steve's body had grown stronger, his system rebounding from some of the stress and trauma it had endured. While he still had a long way to go before he would fully recover, the more serious issues had abated. With his core temperature back to normal and the signs of infection gone, the nurse had slowly reduced Steve's meds.

Now other than an IV to correct fluid and electrolyte imbalances, and his much-needed pain meds, Steve was free of most of the bags that had been hanging next to his bed. His sunburned skin itched, and he really wanted to give it a good scratch. Earlier he'd managed to ease the feeling until he was thwarted by Sandy, who had caught him in the act, and warned him to cease and desist.

He was tired, sure, but given what he'd been through he felt the best he's been since the helicopter crash in the desert. He stared at his leg, a frown on his face. The bruising from the surgery was still a fancy array of colours, and he knew damn well it would hurt like an SOB for a long time, and he wasn't thrilled with the prospect of being out of the action while in PT.

The long months of recovery after the meth op went south was only too recent a memory, and he wasn't looking forward to more time on the IR. He was already itching to get out of here and go home, and he knew damn well his body wasn't ready for that. Steve's mind wanted to get the hell out of dodge and be back on his lanai, taking in the sea air and the Hawaiian ambience, and try and put this behind him.

His room had felt like it had a revolving door installed, and between all the visits from his team, Fox, Brick and the medical staff, his room was like a busy freeway. Strangely Joe had been absent, and when he'd inquired about it to Chin, the Zen Hawaiian had replied with 'You were sleeping then'."

Steve wasn't buying that as the only explanation. He had the feeling that Chin knew more than he was letting on, but he assumed the man didn't want to burden him with any extra stress. Sighing, Steve closed his eyes, about to try and get some more rest. All this thinking was wearing him out.

His plans were derailed when he heard the door creak, and he cracked open an eye to see who his next visitor was. Steve was surprised when Joe White himself came in. Curious, Steve opened his eyes to watch his mentor sneak in as though the man were a burglar invading a home.

"Thought you were avoiding me, Joe," Steve ventured, straight to the point.

Joe had the look of someone who was conscience-stricken, or perhaps even like a kid who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The older man walked over to a nearby chair and wearily collapsed into it. He looked spent.

"I wasn't trying to avoid you, son," Joe said as he looked down at his hands. "I just felt that giving you some space might be a good thing right now," he added, making eye contact.

"Don't lie to me Joe," Steve admonished. He knew Chin wasn't telling him the full story, and neither was his mentor. It wasn't the first time Joe had been less than truthful, and Steve had become well-practiced at reading the older man's expressions. "This is about Danny, isn't it?"

Joe stiffened at the mention of Danny's name, and Steve knew right then that he'd hit the nail right on the head.

"Danny's been here at your side from the moment you got here, and he's made his position pretty clear. You've been through enough as it is, Steve. I didn't want to add more shit to your pile," Joe admitted. "In fact I do feel responsible for much of what happened."

Steve pressed his dry, cracked lips together and sighed. He knew he hadn't gotten through to Danny during their first talk about Joe's role in this, but a part of him had hoped that the two of them would have worked through this by now.

"Danny will come around, Joe. He just needs some time to process everything. It's how he is."

"He's a passionate man," Joe reflected. "He cares about you a great deal. I am glad you have someone you can trust." He cleared his throat. "I know I haven't exactly been the model citizen in that regard."

Steve wasn't sure how to reply to that. Far too often he'd been on the receiving end of Joe's string of lies, and despite his mentor's reason, Steve couldn't help but feel betrayed. He was grateful for the trust and friendship that Danny and the whole team showed. Too many times in his life Steve had opened his trust and his heart, only to have it taken advantage of and stepped on.

"Joe, you're here now, and from what I'm told you saved my life while we were being held captive. I know you feel responsible, but you didn't ask me to come. I chose to, because that was the right thing to do. What you would do if the roles were reversed." Steve assured him. "And I'd do it all over again."

Joe smiled sadly. "I know you would, Steve. It's in your DNA to help people. And it's the same reason I went to try and find Jacob." He pinched the bridge of his nose in regret. "Only I was too late."

Curiosity clawed at Steve's brain, and he was anxious to find out why Joe had gone, and how the man ended up getting captured. "So what happened, Joe? Who is Jacob?"

The question was loaded, and it hung in the air like a black cloud over Joe's head. And judging by the man's expression, it was a query that he'd been anticipating sooner or later.

"Jacob is an old friend from the Navy, Steve. He and I went through BUD/S together, and during one of our deployments he was wounded during a mission that went bad, and it led to his transfer into Naval Intelligence. He was an asset that the Military couldn't afford to lose. Long story short Jacob eventually retired early, and like Brad, set up shop in Afghanistan."

Steve frowned. He'd have thought he'd have heard the name before, unless Jacob had retired before Steve's time in NI. "So how did he end up in trouble, and how did you find out?"

"He used to help the locals- those sympathetic to our cause; with supplies that he'd run between Zaranj and Lashkar Gah. He always bypassed Dashti Margo- for obvious reasons, despite the fact he would have been better hidden using the central road. Most of his people are living on the outskirts anyway," Joe explained, a faraway look in his eyes.

Steve had seen that look before. He was sure he'd looked that way many times himself. Vibrant images of another place and time, etched into his memory with sometimes horrifying clarity. He waited patiently for Joe to continue.

"The local terrorist cell near Zaranj had caught wind of Jacob's comings and goings, and he soon found himself in a tight spot. He managed to get a call out to me somehow. I came over to help him."

"Why didn't he try and contact the base in Kandahar?" Steve questioned. It seemed a long shot to place a call for help out to someone so far away. Especially someone who had retired from the Navy. Sure he knew Joe had some contacts, much like he himself did.

Joe pursed his lips. "Same reason you didn't, once you'd found out about my own disappearance. And the same reason we went into North Korea below the radar to get you out."

Steve understood all too well, and he nodded. "So how did you get captured?"

"Somewhere between Deh Shu and Zaranj I found Jacob. He'd managed to evade the enemy, but he'd been hit. We took refuge in a local home. My best guess is we were ratted out. Next thing we knew they were banging the door in, and it was then I learned the terrorist cell Jacob was talking about was Al-Rashid's men."

Joe leaned back, studying the ceiling tiles. He took a deep breath before he met Steve's concerned gaze once more. "Jacob was interrogated and he succumbed to his injuries. I guess I must have been considered less of a threat at the time. And then some time later you showed up."

"Same guys, different reasons," Steve surmised. "Afzal had nothing to do with Jacob, or you. He seemed to be on some sort of mission of his own." He blew out a breath, and rubbed his eyes. He could feel himself growing tired again, and his body was crying out for sleep. He hated this feeling of being so damn weak all the time.

Joe smiled sadly, and Steve could see the regret and guilt the older man was shouldering. For both Jacob and for Steve. "Get some rest, ok, son?"

"There wasn't anything more you could have done, Joe," Steve said softly.

Joe nodded, a hint of a sad smile fleeting across his lips. "The only easy day was yesterday," he replied, meeting Steve's tired gaze. He rose out of his chair and headed for the door.

The air had been cleared between them. Steve could see it in Joe's eyes. Now he needed to set Danny on the right track so everyone could move on from this and forgive. He nodded in agreement. "Hooyah, Sir."

* * *

 **TBC**


	26. Chapter 26

**Hope everyone is still hanging in there. The muse has been off and on lately, so while I made progress writing the story, I was slow to get the chapter to posting readiness. I apologize for the long wait. I did finish writing the story, so rest assured you will see the end.**

 **Thanks to everyone who has shown their support through reviews/follows and favs.**

 **Many thanks as always to my Danno. 3 Mahalo**

 **Standard disclaimer applies. This is all just for fun.**

* * *

" **H** ow are you feeling today, babe?" Danny inquired as he entered Steve's room with Chin in tow. He thought that his partner looked a whole hell of a lot better than he had a few days ago, which was saying something about how injured his friend was. The nasal cannula had been removed, but the IV that was providing his friend much needed pain meds remained.

The bruises on Steve's face weren't as prominent a colour, their angry purple and blue shades having dulled to a yellowish purple. They were far from healed, though - a stark reminder that his friend's face and body had been used as a punching bag.

Danny pushed the negative thoughts aside and tried to focus on the positive; a daunting task for him if he were being honest with himself. He knew he had an overshadowing negative side, which seemed to rear its head the most when things became tense or uncertain.

While it would be some time before Steve was fully healed and back on his feet, Danny was happy that his partner was on his way down the road to recovery, and that Steve no longer looked as though he were teetering on the edge of death's door.

"Did the doctor's say when I can get out of here?" Steve predictably asked, a look of feigned innocence on his face.

Danny had wondered how soon it would be before that question arose, and the earliness of it surprised even him. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.

"Definitely feeling better," Chin observed with a smirk on his face as he cast a glance at Danny.

"Seriously Steven?" Danny shot back. While he understood that Steve was feeling better, getting on a plane to head back to Hawaii might not be the best course of action this soon. He doubted the man could even stand up on his own right now, let alone be able to handle a flight. He called his friend on it.

"I don't think you can stay upright by yourself, Steve. And you want to check out already?"

"Danny….," Steve tried.

"Don't 'Danny' me, Steve. May I remind you that you were on death's door over a week ago?" Frustrated, he waved his right hand around, nearly catching Chin in the face.

Chin stepped back out of the line of fire, eyebrows raised as he watched the blond, clearly amused.

Steve opened his mouth to speak, ready to argue his point. "Dan…"

Danny feistily cut Steve off. "I'm not finished yet," he continued, diving right into a well-practiced rant. Sure he knew he probably wasn't being totally fair to his friend, but the casual way in which Steve was asking about being released pushed his mother-hen button.

"You can leave _when_ the doctors say you can, and not a moment sooner. And when they do, they will surely have a set of do's and don'ts you need to follow- and you _will_ follow them, Steven. I will make sure of that. Because you, my friend, may be channelling all of your SuperSEAL genes into ignoring the pain that most of us regular mortals might fall prey to, but the reality is that your injuries are far from healed."

"Can I talk now?" Steve inquired once Danny's lips had finally stopped moving.

"Hurry while you can, brah. Your window of opportunity is probably a short one," Chin joked, all smiles.

"Funny," Danny quipped as he gave the Hawaiian's shoulder a friendly swat. He stayed quiet after that, deciding to let his partner have his say.

"I know you're worried Danny, and I know I'm far from healed. But I'm sick of being cooped up, and as soon as they say it's safe to travel, I'd like to go home, ok?" Steve stated honestly. "I want to be in my own house, in my own bed."

Danny opened and closed his mouth, his previously chosen words dying on his lips. He'd not expected Steve to be so rational- the man was usually too casual about hospital visits, and Danny had assumed this time wouldn't be any different. He felt slightly bad for his tirade. He'd completely ignored the fact that Steve had been denied freedom over the past couple of weeks- first, captivity in Khash, and now being relegated to a hospital bed.

Although Steve never actually said the words, Danny could sense it in the man's tone. Could read it in the usually well-guarded expressions. He felt like a heel.

"Ok," Danny finally said.

"Ok?" Steve parroted, clearly stunned Danny didn't have more to say.

"But remember it's not up to me, Steve. It's up to the doctors, and if they say it's dangerous for you to fly, we'll have to come up with another plan," Danny reminded him. He wasn't sure what that plan might be, but he figured he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Listen guys," Chin interrupted the exchange. "I'll go and talk to Doctor Hesh and see what he says. I'll try and plead your case, but I won't promise anything Steve, ok?" Chin turned to go.

"Thanks, Chin," Steve said gratefully to Chin's retreating back.

"Anytime. That's what Ohana is for, Steve," Chin said as he turned back to offer a smile of encouragement before leaving the room.

Danny watched Chin leave, and when he turned back to look at Steve, he noticed his partner's expression had shifted, as if something else that had been on the man's mind had moved up in priority. He waited.

"So did you talk to Joe, Danny? Last he and I talked, he seemed to be under the impression you're still angry with him. It's time to let go, Danny. This isn't his fault and you know it," Steve said bluntly.

Danny had a feeling that Joe was the other thing on the SEAL's mind, and he knew he'd have this conversation sooner or later, as he'd left the topic unresolved. Both with his earlier chat with Steve, and his face-to-face with Joe. He averted his gaze to the floor.

"No Steve. I haven't," he told his friend honestly as he raised his eyes from the floor tiles to meet Steve's concerned expression.

"Danny, you've got to talk with Joe, and work this out. You know that, right? This can't go on forever," Steve said matter-of-factly, no anger in his tone.

He did know it. He'd known it for a while. He'd been so emotionally strained over this whole mission, and the resulting fall out, that he didn't care about who he pointed a finger at. With Afzal dead, Joe had been the only target left, and Danny had needed a place to direct his anger.

"I know, Steve," he admitted. "I know this isn't all his fault. He didn't ask us to come, but by talking to Frank Bama….."

"He knows he made a mistake, Danny. And not only was Joe carrying around the guilt of what happened to us, he is also shouldering the guilt of being unable to help his friend," Steve informed him.

"He was too late?" Danny questioned, slightly confused. He knew Joe had originally come to Afghanistan to help a friend, but his knowledge stopped there. His judgement had been so plagued with anger that he hadn't bothered to inquire further. He'd never thought to ask. He opened his mouth and closed it, unsure of what else to say. His shocked silence obviously told Steve to elaborate.

"The man, Jacob, was an old friend of Joe's. He said Jacob used to help the locals here and ended up getting caught running supplies to the less fortunate; the oppressed. Joe came to help, only to find his friend had been injured. They were captured by Abdul Al-Rashid's men. In the end Jacob succumbed to his injuries," Steve softly told Danny.

He had a good idea on what Steve had meant by 'injuries'. "I… I didn't know, Steve. He never said anything the other day when we talked," Danny admitted. ' _That's because you never gave Joe a chance.'_ His conscience admonished. He felt bad for being so stubborn, especially now with Steve being on the mend. He had every reason to forgive Joe. But he didn't.

"He probably knew he'd never get through to you. And he understands, Danny. He does." Steve took a deep breath, and a flash of pain crossed his features.

"Hey you ok?" Danny asked worriedly, and he moved closer, laying a concerned hand on Steve's arm.

"Yeah, just a twinge in my side. Happens when I forget to not breathe too deeply," Steve replied between clenched teeth, obviously waiting for the pain to subside. "It's fine, Danny."

Danny relaxed a little. He stared at Steve for a moment, gauging the response he'd just received, and the way his friend's expression seemed tight. "Don't give me the standard SEAL reply. You sure you're ok? I can get Sandy and see if she can increase your pain meds."

"Yes mom. I'll be ok," Steve replied with a slightly strained smile. But a smile nonetheless.

Danny snorted. "Don't even….,"

"Well you have been a bit of a mother hen, Danno," Steve joked with a small smirk, even though the pained look never really left the man's blue eyes.

"You won't be saying that when you need someone to help you reach the bathroom," Danny bantered, enjoying the returning feeling of normalcy between them. It was a huge step in the repair of Danny's morale, and a good verbal spar with Steve was just what he needed. And the smirk on Steve's face told him his partner was enjoying this just as much as he was.

"I can hit the head all by myself, thank you very much," Steve defended.

"Oh, really?" Danny chortled as he swept his right arm in an 'after you' motion towards the bathroom door. "Go, go ahead Mr. 'I can do it all by myself'. I'll wait," he baited, eyebrows raised.

Steve's eyes shifted from the doorway of the bathroom back to Danny's face. Danny could almost see the wheels turning as his friend studied the bathroom once more, intently, as if the room were a hostile force that Steve needed to plan a takedown for.

"Alright, you may have a point," Steve conceded and he met Danny's triumphant expression. "Ok, stop with the look, Danno. I get it."

"Wow. Who are you and what have you done with Steve McGarrett?" Danny baited, the smirk plastered on his face. He was enjoying this. "I really need to mark this day down. You know, for historical or perhaps reference purposes."

"Don't get used to it," Steve reminded him. He raised a finger. "Just know that if I had to, I could do it."

"Sure, Steven," Danny continued, voice teasing.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Steve observed with a raised eyebrow.

"How can I not, babe?" Danny smiled. Steve had one of his patented aneurysm looks growing on his face, and even though Danny was having too much fun milking this, he decided to throw his partner a bone.

"I have every faith in you Steve, that you can accomplish anything you put your stubborn mind to. Now, I am going to go see what Chin found out about you being ok to go home." Danny noticed Steve's narrowed eyes, and knew damn well what the man was thinking. "And talk to Joe, I know," he added hastily.

Steve nodded, satisfied. "Good, now hurry up and get me out of here."

Danny snorted, but he gave his friend's arm one last firm squeeze of encouragement before he left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

-H50

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

 **D** anny found Chin grabbing himself a coffee from the small cafeteria. The Hawaiian smiled when they made eye contact, and he saw Chin quickly pour a second cup before heading in his direction.

"Thought you might want one of these," Chin offered, hand outstretched.

Danny took the coffee, appreciative. "Thanks, Chin." He took a sip of the warm liquid, savoring the gentle flavour.

"How's Steve holding up?" Chin asked with a knowing smile on his face.

Danny took another long sip of his coffee before he looked down at his cup, pondering his answer as he stared at the brown liquid. He drew in a breath. "His usual self. He wants to get out of here as soon as possible, and quite frankly, I don't blame him. I've had about all I can take of this place myself, and I wasn't the one stranded in the desert, or taken hostage," Danny said truthfully. "What did Doctor Hesh say?"

Chin pursed his lips. "Well their biggest concern is Steve's leg fracture. He's going to need to take it easy for at least four months. So you know what that means."

"Yeah, an agitated, fidgety, grumpy SEAL," Danny finished for Chin. "So no issues flying?"

"Didn't seem like it. Fox offered to use his contacts to round up a flight home on a C-17. Would be easier on Steve, that's for sure. And it would ease the Doctor's concern about any unnecessary movement or rough jarring," Chin added gratefully.

Danny nodded with a hint of a smile. He was glad Fox had the influence and the ties here. He knew getting home would go a long way towards Steve's healing and recovery. Not to mention the morale of the rest of them. "Good to hear." He finished his coffee and looked around.

"How are Kono and Lou holding up? I haven't had a real chance to sit down and talk with them."

"Kono has finally forgiven herself. She'd been so needlessly hard on herself over this, and I think the talk she had with Steve did her good. Set her straight," Chin surmised. "And Lou? Outwardly he seems fine, but I am sure he is feeling it like the rest of us. He's been good for Kono though. Been keeping her company for the last hour or so while I've been in visiting Steve. Not sure what they've been discussing, but their moods seem lighter. It's good to see."

As though on cue, Danny spotted Joe heading towards them, coffee in hand. The older man walked past them to one of the nearby chairs and sat down with an exhausted sigh, sipping the hot brew.

Chin was quiet for a moment as he looked between Danny and Joe. "Go talk to him, Danny."

Danny pressed his lips together as he gathered himself. He tossed his empty cup in the trash and patted Chin on the shoulder with his free hand. "I plan to. Right now."

He could feel Chin's gaze on his back as he approached Joe. The man sat on the chair, eyes closed, his steaming cup of coffee standing on the table beside him.

As if sensing someone's presence, Joe cracked an eye open. "Hi Danny," Joe said, and Danny noted the hint of surprise in the man's voice.

Danny didn't wait for an invitation before sitting down heavily in the seat next to Joe. He blew out a breath, right hand running uneasily through his hair. "Listen Joe. I'm sorry. I've had some time to do some thinking, and I want you to know that I don't blame you for this." His hand fell heavily into his lap. "I am glad you were there for Steve in Khash, and I…."

Joe placed a hand on Danny's uninjured shoulder, and the blond fell silent, surprised. "Water under the bridge, Danny," Joe offered with a small smile, hand dropping from Danny's shoulder.

Danny's mouth opened then closed like a fish out of water. One might argue it took a lot to make Danny Williams speechless, but this was not one of those times. Joe's quick dismissal of the whole thing had caught him off guard. He finally found his voice.

"Just like that?"

Joe nodded. "Just like that. I understand, Danny. Believe me when I say I do. And I'm sure Steve has told you by now, so you know why. No hard feelings."

Danny's shoulders slumped in relief. Steve was right. Joe did understand, and it was like the last weight he'd been carrying had been lifted from his body by simply allowing himself to forgive.

"Sorry about Jacob."

Joe's blue eyes dropped to his coffee, and he picked up the slowly cooling cup. He took a sip. "Me too," he replied, voice full of regret.

Danny spotted Fox and Brick heading their direction, and he nodded to Joe, excusing himself. "I need to go and thank Fox for the flight home."

Joe glanced over to where the two men were, and he patted Danny once more on the shoulder as a show of friendship. "Thanks, Danny."

Danny knew he should be the one thanking Joe for the ease at which forgiveness was offered. He felt he didn't really deserve it after the way he'd treated Joe, but he was glad that he and Steve's mentor had made peace. He nodded to the man before he rose from his chair and headed over to Fox and Brick, intercepting their path.

"Hey Fox. Shawn," he started with a smile. He knew they'd been in and out of the hospital, as Fox had been co-ordinating Samir's relocation from here, and spearheading the move of the Captain's own compound to a new, undisclosed location. He knew Brad didn't blame them for that mess up, but at the same time it didn't make himself or the rest of the team feel any better about it.

"Hi Danny," Shawn voiced first, leaning heavily on a crutch. His free hand gestured towards Danny's bandaged arm hanging in its sling. "How's the shoulder?"

"Sore," Danny answered honestly. "A tolerable alternative to what would have happened," Danny added grimly. He was certain that he'd have been mourning Steve's death had he not reacted the way he did.

"You were both lucky," Brick told him knowingly.

Danny pressed his lips together in recollection. "I know." He pushed the dark memory aside. "So how's your leg? Since we're comparing notes here." He smiled, feeling a little like Robert Shaw and Richard Dreyfuss in Jaws.

"Nothing some rest won't cure. And some liquid love," Brick joked as Fox raised an eyebrow. The two of them shared a knowing smile, and Danny felt like he was missing out on some personal inside joke. "How's Steve?"

"Itching to get out of here. In fact for once I agree with him," Danny said. "No offence, but I think I've had enough of the desert."

"None taken," Brick replied with a smirk. "It's an acquired taste."

Danny caught Fox's gaze. "Chin said you could fly us out?"

"Just give me the word, and I can get you all on the next C-17 out of here," Fox answered. "When I last checked a bird was supposed to arrive and depart tomorrow at eleven hundred."

"Get us on that one. I'll let Steve and Doctor Hesh know. That should be enough time to prep Steve for the flight. I hope," Danny suggested. "Thanks for everything."

Fox waved a hand. "All in a day's work, Danny. We found Joe and brought Steve home. We were also able to disrupt one of Al-Rashid's strongholds. I'd say it's a job well done."

"I still don't understand how Afzal knew exactly where we were," Danny said, perplexed. He thought they had avoided any undue attention getting to Samir's that night, and the old man's place was well out of sight of prying eyes.

"Informant," Brick provided. "Someone had to have spotted us that night and tipped off Al-Rashid."

"Gents I'm going to go and get word to the base Commander and let him know you'll be joining the flight out tomorrow," Fox stated. "Whenever you are ready, Sergeant meet me back in section R."

"Of course sir," Brick replied.

Fox gave Danny's arm a reassuring pat as he nodded at the blond. "Danny." He smiled and turned away, striding away from them unhurriedly but with purpose.

"Time to go tell Mr. Impatient that he has to wait until tomorrow morning," Danny quipped. "I also need to go talk with Dr. Hesh to find out what the real rules of Steve's discharge are. Because if I let the Doc tell Steve, I'll get the condensed Navy SEAL version."

Brick smiled wide. "That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea. This… was tame compared to his other hospital visits," Danny added with a fond shake of his head. "He's usually asking to get out almost before he's even been admitted."

Brick snorted, his toothy grin growing wider, easily visible beneath man's thick facial hair. "We're all like that, Danny."

"Why am I not surprised?" Danny said. He glanced past Brick's shoulder to the now-empty chairs where the rest of the team had been. He must have missed them go while he was talking with Fox and Brick. "I'm guessing the rest of them must have snuck off to see Steve. Why don't you go on ahead. I'll be in shortly."

Brick nodded and slowly hobbled down the hall, crutch in hand. Danny watched him go before turning to head to the front desk to see about getting in touch with Hesh.

-H50-

-H50 **-**

-H50-

-H50-

 **A** short time later, Danny pushed the door to Steve's room open, and found everyone seated around Steve's bed, and judging by the relaxed smiles, he thought it looked as though they were having an enjoyable, comfortable conversation. It was a nice change.

Steve's face lit up when Danny entered the room. "Hey Danny. Brick said you were talking with Dr. Hesh? Did he say when I can go?"

Danny shot Brick a look before he glanced at Chin, eyebrow raised. "You didn't tell our fearless leader?"

Chin held up both hands. "Thought you should be the one to deliver the news, brah," he said, unfazed by the look Danny was giving him.

"Tell me what?" Steve pushed, voice not quite a jovial as it had been when Danny first walked in.

"Hey, it's fine, Steve," Danny quickly said, his hand raised haltingly. The look Steve was sending his was right now could melt wax. "Chin seem to think I needed the dubious honour of letting you know Fox has secured us a flight out of here tomorrow."

Steve was about to speak, but Danny pressed on.

"You can go, provided you follow _all_ of Dr. Hesh's orders, which I know will be a miracle right there." Danny ignored the eye roll sent in his direction. "And provided someone is there with you, at your house, so you are not alone. Silly me volunteered for that one."

Brick's eyebrows rose and he made a show of shifting closer to where Lou was seated, as if he were keeping his distance from a poisonous snake that might strike at any moment. "Tell me they're not always like this?" He whispered to the ex SWAT Captain.

"Worse. They're like an old married couple," Lou said smartly. "My advice? Stay out of the line of fire and watch the show."

"Noted."

Steve carried on as though he hadn't heard the conspiratorial chatter. "I don't need anyone mothering me, Danny," he tried.

Danny snorted and jabbed a waving finger at the bathroom. "Have you forgotten our earlier conversation, Steven?"

Steve's expression turned neutral and he looked slightly sheepish, almost embarrassed. Like a pet that has been caught doing something wrong.

"No, I haven't."

"Well put on your big boy Navy pants and suck it up, because if you want to go home, you need me. And those are the Doc's rules," Danny stated. "Not mine. Like them or not."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, and Danny could see the fatigue on his partner's face. He hated adding stress to the man, but this was a serious matter, and Danny needed to be sure Steve was on board.

Finally Steve sighed, tired. "Ok, ok. I give up. Consider the white flag raised, and let's go home."

* * *

 **TBC**


	27. Chapter 27

**Thanks to everyone for sticking with this long project. I feel like I have even less time now than before because of all the outdoor chores around the house. I do appreciate the continued support.**

 **As always thanks to all for the follows, favs, and especially the reviews.**

 **And of course this wouldn't be here without my beta's support and putting up with me. Mahalo Danno.**

 **Usual disclaimer applies. This is only for fun.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 **T** he hot, Afghan sun beat down on the matte, battle-grey paint of the gracefully posing C-17 that was parked on the dusty, makeshift runway. The large, hulking plane provided shade for those seeking it, and several on-duty personnel were taking advantage of the opportunity. The large ramp at the back of the plane was open wide, inviting crew members and cargo alike to board.

Danny blinked at the overpowering brightness of the sun, as he, Joe, and the rest of the team walked alongside Brick, who had offered to escort the team out to the waiting plane. Danny squinted as he slipped a pair of shades over his eyes and scanned the runway.

He spotted Fox standing at the rear of the plane, the Captain's hands were casually behind his back as he chatted with who Danny guessed was one of the aircraft's crew members. Fox looked in his direction and smiled, hand raising as he waved them over.

Danny walked alongside Steve's wheelchair, right hand subconsciously hovering near his partner's shoulder. He had wanted to wheel his friend out, but Lou had interjected himself between Danny and the chair, taking the handles and citing the fact that the blonde's arm was in a sling and that he shouldn't be adding any unnecessary abuse to the injury.

He'd conceded, but that didn't mean he had to stray too far away. Call him overprotective, call him motherly. He didn't care. Steve was getting on the plane in one piece, and out of this damned desert.

"They are ready for you all on board. Wheels up in ten," Fox announced once the group had reached him.

Steve held out a hand. "Brad, thanks for everything you, Brick, and your team did for us. For me."

Fox accepted the outstretched hand firmly and shook it. He smiled. "All in a day's work, you know that. I'm glad we were able to help bring you and Commander White home in one piece."

Brick walked over to stand next to Fox, a genuine, broad smile on his face. "Think nothing of it, Steve. We were happy to have been able to help. Besides, we got to throw a wrench in one of Al-Rashid's highly fortified compounds. Makes my day." His smile grew.

Danny looked around, absorbing the feeling of relief and the sense of calm. After such a stressful time, it was nice to finally be able to take a deep breath. As deep a breath as one could take in a place covered in sand. He was sure he'd inhaled a beachful of it by simply being outside.

"Well, I don't know about all of you, but I think I've had my fill of the desert sun," Lou said as he glanced at the group. "Fox, Brick. You boys went above and beyond."

"If you guys are ever near the islands, stop in and say hello," Chin said with a smile and he raised his hand to give Kono's shoulder a squeeze. "Kono can give you a tour of the surf."

Brick held up a halting hand. "I don't think surfing is my forte," he joked. "But I appreciate the offer."

"Anytime, brah. Just know that if I can teach Danny to surf, I can teach anyone," Kono replied with a conspiratorial wink. "I welcome the challenge."

"Hey, now," Danny snorted in Kono's direction, eyebrows raised. He gave her arm a friendly swat with his free hand. "I'll have you know I was a model student. I mean, once I got used to the baby waves." He smiled as he fondly remembered the day that Kono was teaching him the basics of surfing, and he was foolishly over eager to get into the water. Up until the point Kono drew his attention to an unlucky surfer taking a tumble beneath a very large wave. Yep- he'd been more than happy to stay on land and master the basics.

Fox nodded and smiled, blue eyes bright. "Maybe our paths will cross again. Hopefully around better circumstances, though," he added.

Chin nodded with a parting wave of a hand before he gently nudged Kono towards the large ramp at the back of the C-17, and the two of them began walking away, Chin's hand guiding the small of his cousin's back.

"Aloha," Kono threw back over her shoulder, a dimpled smile on her face.

Danny held out a hand to Brick, who took it heartily before the burly man pulled him in for a large hug, arms nearly engulfing his smaller frame, yet still mindful of Danny's shoulder wound.

"Easy there," he choked out. "You're going to squish me." Danny knew he never wanted to be on the wrong side of Brick's temper. He imagined the large man had flattened several unfortunate bad guys by simply using physical strength alone.

Brick moved back, unfazed. It was clear he'd drawn Danny into his circle of friends. And Danny was honoured. "You two take care of yourselves." He pinned Danny and Steve with a knowing look, his smile growing wider.

" _We_ will," Danny replied with a glance at his partner, as though daring the SEAL to argue.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yes Daniel," he sparred before glancing up at Lou with a look of feigned exasperation. He looked over to the back of the plane to where more personnel had gathered. "Let's go guys. I am sure they want to get this bird in the air."

"Safe trip, gents," Fox said as he watched Lou take the controls of Steve's wheelchair, and head towards the plane.

Danny nodded a silent thanks to the two Army men, who never had to help them in the first place, but had volunteered without a moment's pause. They not only risked life and limb, but the safety of their compound to rescue men they really didn't know, and they lost a young man in the process. Danny felt honoured to have met these two people, and as he glanced at Steve's retreating wheelchair, he knew deep down he's known someone like this for nearly eight years.

He smiled.

Joe, who had been silent throughout the whole exchange moved up and reached out a hand to Brick. "Thanks for bringing Steve home, Sergeant. And for all of your efforts throughout this whole mess," he said as he shook Shawn's hand. "That boy is like a son to me."

Brick nodded. "Nothing you wouldn't have done sir," he replied matter-of-factly. "Glad I could be of service. I'm sorry you weren't able to rescue your friend Jacob."

"Me too, and I'm sorry for your loss as well. He sounds like he was a wonderful young man. Shame I never really got a chance to meet him." He turned to Brad, reaching out to shake the Captain's hand. "Brad, thank you. You didn't have to help me or the Five-0 team. But I'm forever grateful that you did."

Brad nodded and smiled sadly at the mention of Tac. "No thanks necessary, Joe. We were happy to help, and would do it all over again if asked."

Danny heard the sound of the C-17's engines spooling up, and he glanced at the back of the plane, noting the two men dressed in desert camouflage that were hovering by the controls. "Um, Joe we'd better go. Those two guys are looking kind of impatient, and I really don't want to get left behind. I've had all the Afghanistan I can take."

"He's right," Fox said as he gave Joe a friendly pat on the arm. "You'd better get going or the flight's going to leave without you. Safe ride home."

"Thanks," Joe said as he took one last look around.

"Come on Joe. Team's waiting," Danny offered as he and Joe hurried over to the ramp of the plane, and disappeared inside.

A click of the hydraulics signalled the closing process of the ramp, and slowly it began to rise, humming as it moved. It closed without fanfare, and the large turbofan engines ramped up to full power and the mammoth transport rolled towards open ground to prepare for takeoff.

The cargo plane paused as its crew completed its final checks, and after a moment it began to move and it gathered speed, dust kicking up like a desert sandstorm. The C-17 needed little room for such a large plane, and what was only seconds later the plane rose into the air, and began its trip back to North America.

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

 **S** teve was wasted. The long flight home, the turbulence, the insane amount of juggling his sore, abused body in and out of the Camaro- in retrospect he should've used the Silverado. And the fact that his pain meds had nearly worn off. Everything had eaten slowly away at what was left of his reserves, and it took everything he had to remain upright while Danny fumbled with the lock to the house.

He leaned heavily on his crutches and closed his eyes. He took in as deep a breath as his midsection would allow, and he let the surge of pain roll past him like a small wave. He opened his eyes to find Danny standing in the now open doorway, blue eyes staring at him, face full of concern.

"I'm good," he said in way of reply to the look, and at that the blond's expression darkened.

"No, Steven. You're not. I can see the pain you're in. It's written all over your face, babe." Danny's expression softened as he stepped inside, dropping the bag he was carrying onto the floor before he moved back to Steve's side and gently placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Come on, SuperSEAL. Get in here and sit down. Take a load off and let Danno look after you, ok? That's an order."

Steve stared at his partner like the man had grown a second head, eyebrow arched at the wording. And when Danny gestured to an oh-so-inviting couch, Steve slowly crossed the threshold with one thing in mind. Rest.

He hated how long it took him to reach the couch, a painful reminder of the injuries he'd sustained, and how long a road he had on the way to recovery. He wasn't stupid, he knew just how difficult this would be, but he'd somehow fooled himself that by simply being home, in his own house, he'd magically feel better.

And he did, in a way. Being back in Hawaii was like a breath of fresh air to his morale, and he needed someplace to start, didn't he? Steve felt Danny's reassuring hand on his arm, and he allowed his friend to help him sit down. He couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips as he lowered himself onto the soft cushion and leaned back, closing his eyes as he tiredly rest his head against the padded back of the couch.

He could feel Danny hovering next to him. Could feel his friend's concerned gaze roaming his body looking for signs of additional stress.

"You got those pain meds, Danny?" Steve managed after a moment, and he knew his friend had moved based on the shifting of air and the sound of rummaging.

"Yeah, right here, babe. Hang on and let me go grab you a glass of water," Danny told him and the SEAL listened to the opening and closing of cupboards, and the running of tap water. The couch shifted as Danny sat next to him, and he cracked his eyes open before reaching out to gratefully accept the items.

"Thanks," Steve whispered once he'd taken the meds and downed the full glass of water. He hadn't realized he was that thirsty.

"You need any…," Danny started, and Steve tiredly halted him with a wave of his hand in gentle dismissal.

"Just some sleep," Steve said, no anger or tension in his tone, and Danny stared at him a moment, silent. After a moment the blond nodded.

Danny rose, and he placed Steve's cell phone on a nearby table. "Call me if you need anything. I am going to go upstairs and try out your bed."

Steve's eyebrows rose at the choice of words, but Danny continued, ignoring the look Steve was firing in his direction.

"And do not. I repeat. Do _not_ try and do anything on your own," Danny warned. "I don't want to come down here and find your ass lying on the floor, capisce?"

"Yes mom," Steve mumbled as he watched Danny head to the stairs. Truth be told he was thankful for his partner's presence, despite the mothering that had already begun. He yawned and gingerly laid down on his uninjured side. Although healing, the added pressure of his weight on the wound was unpleasant.

Steve closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Danny's footfalls heading up the stairs and reach the landing. He was asleep before his friend reached the bedroom.

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

 **D** anny couldn't sleep. Despite the fact they were home safe and sound, his subconscious mind plagued his dreams with images of a battered Steve being held at gunpoint by Afzal. The last one had been fairly vivid, and he'd woken up in a sweaty panic until he'd realized where he was.

His shoulder ached, and he guessed he must have jostled it roughly in his nightmare-filled slumber. He looked around the room, and blinked the sleep from his eyes as he attempted to look at the clock on the nightstand. 1 AM.

He blew out a breath, and ran his right hand through his tangled blond hair. Since his attempts to get some shuteye were falling short, he decided he'd go check on Steve.

Danny padded down the stairs, and when he reached the bottom, the smell of sea air and the sound of crashing waves encroached on his senses. His gaze shot over to the couch where he'd left Steve some hours ago, resting. His friend wasn't there, the couch empty other than a twisted, rumpled blanket.

Nervous, Danny quickly connected the dots and his blue eyes shifted to the open door to the lanai. While he knew there was little place Steve could go in his current condition, it didn't stop Danny from feeling worried. He mentally slapped himself for his own short-sightedness. He should have known his partner would more than likely be plagued with nightmares- hell he himself was, so why wouldn't Steve?

And stupidly he'd left his friend alone.

Danny knew Steve liked to find solace in the ocean, usually going for a swim, and he hoped like hell his friend was of sound enough mind not to try and take a dip. Hurriedly he went to the door to the lanai, and looked outside, the crescent moon dimly illuminating the objects below.

"Steve?" He called out warily when he didn't immediately spot his friend.

"Here," came the weary reply, and Danny moved out into the night, eyes narrowing as he attempted to adjust to the low light.

Steve had somehow managed to get himself out into one of the Adirondack chairs, crutches haphazardly tossed down; semi-coated with sand. Danny approached, and when Steve didn't attempt to make eye contact with him, he moved into his partner's line of vision.

"Babe? You ok?"

Steve's thousand-yard stare at the ocean shifted to Danny's face, stormy blue eyes silently probing as if he were looking for something. Appearing to have found it, Steve's clearly troubled gaze returned to watching the rolling water.

"M' fine."

"You're fine," Danny echoed flatly, disbelief lacing his words. "Steve, you my friend are on the other end of the spectrum to 'fine'," Danny told Steve softly as he lowered himself into a chair next to the SEAL.

"Why are you even out here, Danny," Steve deflected. "You should be resting."

Danny knew what his partner was trying to do- get the attention away from himself. He let the subject of avoidance untouched for a moment, deciding that perhaps if he was open about his own thoughts that Steve might open up.

"Well, like you, I couldn't sleep," Danny told him, and he stole a glance at Steve's gaze, which remained fixated on the rolling water. "I kept seeing Afzal, his face as he held a gun to your head. Each time I was forced to watch him take you away, only to then hear a gunshot. I woke up in a panic."

Steve glanced over at Danny, and there was a look in the SEAL's eyes that the blond couldn't decipher.

"I'm sorry, Danny," Steve apologized as he turned his head to face him.

"I didn't tell you that so you would apologize Steve," Danny told him. "For one you have nothing to apologize for and two your body language is screaming out that your mind his haunted, babe. Otherwise why would you try and get yourself out here, to your place that brings you comfort, hm?"

Danny hoped he wasn't wrong in calling it like he saw it. Steve was good at locking down his real feelings, and Danny didn't want his friend to shut the safe and lose the combination.

"Nothing gets by you, does it, Danny," Steve quietly said, a wan smile on his face.

"Well I _am_ a Detective, Steven. I wouldn't be very good at my job if I couldn't see what was going on right in front of me. Not to mention understanding my partner, which, by the way," he continued, right arm waving through the air, "took several years to figure out."

Danny was keeping his fingers crossed that the direct approach, and sharing a bit of his own inner turmoil would make Steve feel that his feelings could be shared, and not perceive it as a weakness.

Steve appeared to be considering his options, and when he turned his attention back to the ocean, Danny began to think that maybe he'd made a mistake and pushed his friend too hard. "No one is going to judge you, Steve," Danny gently prodded. "Especially not me. I can only begin to imagine what you went through, but maybe talking will at least help you get a shred of some much needed sleep."

"I keep seeing Tac's lifeless body lying on the floor of that burning helicopter. Hearing his surprised, pained cry as he was hit," Steve began so softly that Danny almost didn't hear him. "And then I see myself leaving him behind in that burning helo- almost as if I am outside of my body, watching it all unfold," Steve added as he glanced at Danny, eyes wet with moisture that was glistening in the moonlight.

"I know deep down there was nothing I could've done, but the images won't leave me alone, Danny."

Danny's heart ached for his friend. "I know, Steve. Trust me on that one. I had endless, vivid dreams of my partner Grace from that day she was killed. I knew there was nothing different that I could have done, but still the images haunted me in my sleep." He looked out at the water, and after a moment he smiled in sad, but fond recollection.

Steve cleared his throat as if he were having trouble keeping his emotions under control. "You know I thought for sure I was going to die in that desert, Danny," Steve said quietly as if he were reliving the experience right this very moment in his mind's eye.

Danny bit his lip but remained silent for fear that speaking now would cause Steve to lock the rest inside. He waited patiently.

"I was sure I saw you out there, partner. At least my mind said you were. Things were…. pretty messed up, you know? Suddenly there were two male voices, neither of which were speaking English. I remember the tones, but not the words. Honestly the next thing that I really remember was waking up alone, tied to a chair," Steve glanced at Danny, blue eyes filled with emotional turmoil, but giving nothing else away regarding the man's state of mind.

"It's funny," Steve suddenly blurted, deadpan. "Afzal was looking for some master plan, and in reality there wasn't one. And despite that, I still couldn't tell him why we were here, you know?"

"I hardly see why that's funny, Steve," Danny replied, even though he knew his friend hadn't meant literally. "There's no humour in some crazy jerk torturing you," he countered angrily. How Steve could see any irony in being subjected to senseless violence, Danny didn't understand. Couldn't.

Steve didn't comment as a mirthless chuckle passed his lips. "You know at one point I was sure I was back in that laundromat with Wo Fat, being water boarded all over again. I kept seeing Afzal's face morphing into that bastard's. And now, even here in the safety of my own house, the images are assaulting my dreams." He turned once more to glance at Danny. "I needed to get outside. To….think."

Danny ran a hand through his hair. "I am so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry we didn't get to you sooner." He met his friend's haunted gaze. "You know I'm here for you, Steve. And if you ever. EVER need to talk to someone, I am here for you. You know that, right?"

"Thanks, Danny."

"Good, now since you've managed to find your way out here – how exactly I'm not sure I want to know, you just sit tight and let ol' Danno bring you your next round of meds, and a cup of hot soothing tea. An old Williams favourite," Danny said as he rose out of his chair and gently patted Steve on the shoulder.

Steve raised an eyebrow at the tea comment. "You know how to make tea? You. I've always thought of you as a coffee and malasada type of guy. I don't think I've ever seen you anywhere near a tea leaf."

"Ah, then my secret Williams tea wouldn't be so secret, now would it?" Danny retorted with an overly dramatic snort. "Trust me."

"Always do, Danno. Always do."

Danny smiled before he turned to head back inside. The banter felt good, and he was happy that Steve seemed to be in slightly better spirits for now. He paused once to look back at his partner, whose attention had returned to the ocean. He really hoped that Steve could find some sort of respite, and deep down he knew the reality of this was he had only scratched the tip of a larger iceberg, and he planned to see to it that he helped in any way he could.

He shoved the negative waves aside. He'd managed to get Steve to open up and made a bit of progress, and if he wanted to help he needed to be as positive as possible. Ironic, he knew, since he was inherently a negative person. He smiled slightly at the thought as he went inside to prepare his tea. Steve was on the mend, and even a small win was a victory just the same.

* * *

 **TBC**


	28. Chapter 28

**Appreciate all the support everyone has given to this story. Couple more chapters to go after this one.**

 **Mahalo as always to my beta Danno. *many hugs***

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **T** he Hawaiian afternoon sun was high in the sky, embracing Steve in its warmth. He'd just hung up from a conversation with Chin, who had called to check up on him and Danny. And before that, Joe had called as well to see how he was doing. Steve set his phone down on a nearby table and leaned back, hoping for a break in the phone calls as he closed his eyes in relaxation. His leg was propped up on a stool that Danny had brought outside for him last week- something his friend had insisted on since Steve had been intent on spending the majority of his time there.

He'd already started on some light PT for his leg, since Dr. Hesh had already made contact with the doctors here at Tripler. They'd been fully briefed on the surgery and obviously had specific instructions on how long and how frequently Steve should exercise his injury.

He knew this for a fact because when Danny had been on the phone a few days ago, the man had been animatedly talking and firing looks in Steve's direction, hands waving as if a deer fly were pestering him. The law had been laid out for him at the time, and normally Steve would have argued the nuances of his recovery. However, he wanted to heal up as soon as possible and get back to his job. This sitting around was making him stir crazy. So he promised to follow the rules. Scout's honour. At least for now.

Physically he felt somewhat better than he did when he'd first arrived home. Emotionally- well those wounds were harder to mend. They say time heals all wounds.

Sometimes he wasn't so sure about that statement.

The ringing of his cell phone brought Steve out of his musings with a sigh. So much for some peace and quiet. He opened his eyes to glance over at the lit display. Unknown number.

Curious, he snatched up the device and thumbed the answer button.

"McGarrett."

" _How are you doing, Steve?"_ Brad Hunter's calm voice came through the line.

Steve smiled, despite the fact Fox couldn't see him. It was good to hear the older man's voice again. "I'm doing ok, Brad," he said genuinely. "Danny's been a mother hen, but honestly I am glad he's here. It's been nice to have someone to talk to," Steve added.

" _I understand,"_ Brad replied knowingly. _"Samir sends his well wishes, by the way. He'll be happy to know that you are on the mend. You had everyone pretty worried back at his place in Lashkar Gah."_

"Thank him again for all of his help. Danny told me about everything Samir did for us, and for me. I'm grateful he opened up his home to us, despite the risks," Steve said.

" _I will. He feels like we do, and would do it all again if needed."_

"I'm sure you didn't call me just to see how I was," Steve offered. "What's up?"

Fox chuckled softly at the gentle accusation. _"You're right, but don't take that the wrong way, Steve."_

"No offense taken, Brad." Steve assured him. "What did you need?"

Fox's tone became serious. _"I wanted to let you know that there will be a service for Tac next Tuesday at the Fort Worth Cemetery in Dallas Texas. You and your team are welcome to attend. I have already put a call in with Joe White extending him the same offer. He plans to arrive sooner to take care of some other business."_

Steve's stomach clenched at the mention of Tac's name. Although he'd come to peace with what had happened, he couldn't help the wash of angst that passed through him. Of course, he wanted to go. He wouldn't even think of missing a chance to pay his respects to the young man.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, Brad," Steve said firmly. "It's the least I can do." He heard a rustle coming from the lanai and glanced over to see Danny walking outside. The blond came over to his chair, plate in each hand and a questioning look on his face.

Steve held up a hand in a 'hang on' gesture.

" _Service starts at 1300,"_ Fox told him. _"Brick, myself, and a few members of my team from the compound will be in attendance. As well as Tac's family, of course. This is a small service. The young man wasn't one for the flashy fanfare, so we plan on keeping things simple in his honour."_

"I understand. We'll see you next week. Thanks for the call, Brad."

The line went quiet as Fox hung up, and Steve pressed the 'end call' button before setting his phone back onto the table. He looked up at Danny.

"Should you be carrying that with a healing shoulder?" he questioned his partner as he gestured to the plate in Danny's left hand.

Danny glanced down at his own shoulder as if he needed to remind himself about what Steve was referring to. The blond had taken the sling off late last week, stating that he'd bee growing tired of the device hindering his movements. Especially those in the kitchen.

"It's fine," Danny said dismissively as he set the plates down. He plopped into the chair next to Steve, glancing at the phone on the table. "Should you be planning trips without checking with your doctor first? Or even me?" Danny retorted.

Steve frowned at the slight edge to the words, and after a moment he saw his friend's expression soften in silent apology.

"Tac's funeral?' Danny inquired intuitively.

Steve pressed his lips together, suppressing the rising regret this topic so easily stirred up inside him. He knew he'd been taking the young man's death hard, but he'd had a role to play in the outcome, and it would take him some time to really move on. Starting by going to the service.

He gingerly reached over to the half-full glass of water on the table by his phone, stalling for time as he gathered his thoughts. He took a sip, troubled gaze analyzing the near-melted pieces of ice as they danced lazily about the clear liquid.

"Yeah. In Texas. Fort Worth Cemetery." He met Danny's gaze. "And before you start, Danny, I'm going," he told his friend firmly.

"I wasn't going to try and stop you, babe," Danny answered thoughtfully. "In fact, I am going with you. And that part, my friend, is non-negotiable."

Steve smiled gently, thankful for Danny's understanding. He had been fully prepared for some pushback; an argument about his health and flying. But instead the Jersey native surprised him.

"Thanks, Danny." He set down his glass. "Brad's extended the invitation to the team, so we'll have to talk to the others to see if they'd like to go." Steve frowned as he looked at the table, his gaze resting on the nicely presented sandwich that sat on the plate. He examined it in greater detail as though he'd only just noticed its presence.

"What?" Danny questioned, voice taking on a slightly defensive tone.

"I didn't know you were such a chef, Danno. I've never seen a simple sandwich displayed as well as this one," Steve teased.

"I happen to have many talents, Steven. And if you keep it up, I'll be sure not to share those with you," Danny fired back.

Steve's eyebrows rose at the statement, a smirk on his face. "Well I'm sure the sandwich tastes wonderful," he replied as he reached over, snatching half off the plate. The quick movement pulled at the injury in his side, and he couldn't stop the wince that flashed across his face. He knew it had only been a couple of weeks since he'd been home, but the pain meds he was on tended to mask most of the fire he felt when he moved the wrong way, or moved too quickly. A stark reminder that he was far from healed.

"You ok?" Danny questioned, concerned. "When did you last take your meds?"

"Just before PT," Steve told him. "I guess the session took more of a toll on me than I thought. I know the exercise helps my leg, but at the same time the rest of my body is in protest, you know?" He sighed. He hated the feeling of being stuck relatively in one place.

First there was the several months recovery from his brush with death during the meth epidemic case, and now here he was, right back on the DL for what the doctors said could be at least four months.

He must have zoned out, because when he looked up from being seemingly mesmerized by his lap, he saw Danny watching him carefully, gaze clearly in analysis mode.

"I'm fine, Danny. I just don't like sitting here idle, feeling useless," Steve said in reply to the concerned stare he was receiving.

"I know, babe. But the rest of the team can handle the workload while you recover. Duke has offered full HPD support in case we need it." He locked eyes with Steve. "Look I know you'd rather be out there playing Rambo, but unless you want to make this harder on yourself, you need to take it easy. I'm sure Chin or Lou could read us in on a case or two. Get another opinion. Would keep your mind somewhat occupied, and me sane."

"Besides," Danny continued. "at least now you don't look like you spent too much time in the oven under the broiler. So, you're already on the plus side of all this," he teased, hand gesturing to the rest of Steve's body.

"Gee thanks, Chef Danno. Good to know I'm not too overcooked," Steve jabbed snarkily.

"Ok. Enough talk," Danny said. "Let's sit and enjoy the food and the relaxing view."

Steve never thought he'd hear Danny use relaxing and view in the same sentence. Perhaps his friend was warming up to the beauty of Hawaii after all. He smiled at the thought, deciding not to comment. Danny was right. The ocean view was very serene, and a welcome sight.

A warm, moist and gentle breeze washed over them as the winds came in from the ocean, and Steve closed his eyes. He'd always found the Hawaiian ambience soothing, and if their rocky trip to Afghanistan had Danny re-evaluating his opinion and embracing the islands… well who was Steve to argue?

-H50-

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 **T** he sun was low in the sky, its orange hue casting an almost ethereal glow onto the C-37B Gulfstream that was on approach to the Naval Air Station, Fort Worth Joint Reserve Base in Texas. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, making this a perfect day for Tac's service.

The landing gear emerged as the plane began its descent, the engines throttling back.

Danny watched Steve gaze out the window, his partner's expression neutral. Steve hadn't spoken much during their flight from Hawaii, and his attempts to engage his friend in conversation had been thwarted with a soft _'I just want to rest, Danny. Please.'_

Now that their plane had begun its landing, Steve's mood appeared to be what Danny would almost describe as nervous. But the Steve McGarrett Danny knew didn't get nervous, and he chalked up the odd energy to the plethora of hidden emotions he was sure were swirling around his partner's brain like a brewing tropical storm.

Danny touched Steve's arm gently. "Hey, you ok? You're not in any pain, are you?"

Steve turned his gaze away from the window as the plane bounced slightly when the tires hit the tarmac to offer Danny a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Danno."

"Ok," Danny replied after a moment, unconvinced. He let the moment lie, not wanting to make a mountain out of a molehill right now. Perhaps he was just being overly protective. He glanced over at the others, sharing a quiet look with Chin, Lou and Kono. They seemed hesitant as well, and Danny got the feeling that they were thinking the same thing as he was, if their faces were any indication.

Kono smiled softly at him and shrugged a little. Leave it be for now.

The Gulfstream began to slow as the engines died down, and it taxied off the main runway, rolling to a stop near one of the hangars.

Unbuckling, Lou rose out of his seat, body slightly hunched forward. The low height of the plane's ceiling was restricting the tall man's ability to stand fully upright. He looked from Steve to Danny. "I'll get the wheelchair," he offered.

Danny nodded his thanks. Before leaving, Steve had wanted to use the crutches only- had been adamant almost. But Danny had argued, standing fast on his terms. Yes the doctors had said that _light_ movement, and short weight bearing exercises would aid in Steve's tibia fracture recovery. But in this case Danny had to make sure he managed to overpower his partner's stubbornness.

The trip, the funeral, and a long day of emotional and physical stress were some of the ammo Danny had fired in Steve's direction. And in the end, after a long pause of consideration, Steve had relented. But notwithout a clause that he also be allowed to bring the crutches along so he could use them to get around the hotel room, and get on and off the plane.

Danny watched Steve, who looked to be preparing himself. He touched his friend's shoulder. "Come on, SuperSEAL. Time to go."

Steve didn't seem to have heard him, and Danny frowned in concern, his hand slightly increasing the pressure on his partner's uniformed shoulder.

"Hey Steve. You ok, babe?"

Startled, Steve tore his gaze away from the carpet on the plane's floor to look at Danny, confusion in his blue eyes. The blond could tell that Steve's mind had been anywhere but here. It was written all over his face. Danny exchanged glances with Kono and Chin as the silence lingered.

"Yeah," Steve finally said before he cleared his throat. "Yeah," he repeated. "I'm good. Let's go."

Chin climbed out of his seat once Lou had grabbed the wheelchair and crutches from the rearward portion of the plane. He reached out a hand in assistance, taking the crutches from Lou before passing them to Danny. "Here you go, brah."

"Thanks," Danny said as he took them, transferring them to a rigid- looking Steve. He'd half expected his partner to shoo them away, telling them that he didn't need to be mothered, and that he could manage himself. Instead the SEAL wordlessly took them.

Although Danny knew that Steve had made good strides in the right direction with regards to mental recovery, he could tell his friend really needed some more time to put some inner demons to rest. He could see the turmoil in Steve's blue eyes, and he hoped that the funeral would bring Steve some of the closure he needed. Deserved.

Lou moved past them to the front of the plane, once he saw the pilot had finished opening the door and lower the stairs, the aircraft having been secured. Warm, moist air filtered inside, and the Chicago man hoisted the folded wheelchair and disembarked.

Danny and Chin helped Steve out of his seat, mindful of the man's still healing wounds. Using the crutches, Steve slowly headed towards the doorway, the two men hovering nearby should Steve need assistance.

Kono waited just behind her cousin, body language showing she wanted to help, but unsure if she should. Danny watched her bite her lip, her hand shoving an errant strand of hair behind her ear. The dress she'd chosen for the funeral was simple, but cool, the black fabric light and airy for the Texan temperatures.

He looked down at his own suit, hoping the dark, charcoal grey one he'd chosen wouldn't be too hot. When he glanced up again, he met Kono's gaze, his suit's comfort status forgotten. He smiled encouragingly as he tilted his head towards a slow-moving Steve, mouthing 'He's fine.'

Steve straightened himself once he'd reached the open door, hands smoothing out his uniform's white material and taking a deep breath as if to compose himself.

"I need my hat, Danny," Steve reminded him, obviously having just realized he'd left it on the seat.

"Oh yeah. Sorry," Danny replied, and when he turned to pick it up, Kono had already swooped in to retrieve it.

She handed it to Steve. "Here boss," she said gently.

Balancing, Steve took his cap and put it on. He offered her a half-smile. "Thanks, Kono."

Danny hovered behind his partner as Steve started his decent down the stairs of the plane, should the SEAL need any help. He saw Lou at the bottom of the stairs, and he knew the large man was ready to leap into action- just in case.

Granted there were only seven or eight stairs, but he couldn't ignore the possibility Steve could potentially take a misstep. His partner had only a short time of rehab under his belt, and while the implant in his friend's leg would keep the fracture stable, Danny knew the pain would still be there.

The doctor at Tripler had insisted that Steve take things one step at a time, especially due to the other injuries that also needed time to heal.

"I've got this, Danny," Steve brushed him off, the man's independent stubbornness taking hold now that they were out in public.

Danny sighed inwardly but he complied, letting Steve take the lead. He knew Steve had a lot of pride, and he hoped that trait didn't cause Steve any added injury. He threw Chin and Kono an exasperated glance before he followed his partner down the stairs.

Chin could only offer a shrug in reply before he placed a hand on the small of his cousin's back, guiding her off the jet. "Ladies first," he offered before following.

"Glad you could make it," a familiar voice echoed across the hangar, and Danny looked over to where the sound originated. He smiled.

Brick, fully dressed in his service uniform slowly headed in the team's direction, cane in hand and a fond toothy smile on his face.

Lou held out a hand once Brick had reached them, greeting the man with a hearty handshake. "You clean up nice," he joked.

Kono moved in for a friendly embrace, and Brick gave her a one-armed version of his bear hug, his large bulky frame dwarfing her. "Well the same could be said for you lot," Brick fired back as his gaze roamed over the rest of the Five-0 team. "Commander, good to see you up and about. You're looking a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you."

"Thanks, Sergeant. You look like you're getting around better yourself," Steve replied.

Brick smiled again. "Fox told me to use the cane. I figured I should follow orders," he added with a small shrug.

"See Steven? Even Brick knows when to listen to reason," Danny interjected as he patted his friend gently on the shoulder. He knew Steve had relented to using the wheelchair while at the service, but he couldn't resist.

Steve threw Danny a withering look before he turned his attention back to Brick, who was eyeing the two of them with a knowing look on his face.

"Fox is waiting for us at the cemetery. I've got two SUV's waiting just outside the hangar," Brick told the team. "We should mount up."

Grover moved to open the wheelchair, but Steve brushed him off. "Forget the chair for now, Lou. I can make it to the car."

Danny rolled his eyes. His partner could be such a stubborn idiot, but he didn't bother to argue Steve's decision. He could tell the SEAL had already made up his mind. "Let's go then, Super SEAL. Lead the way."

Brick almost managed to hide the smirk that crossed his face as he turned to lead them outside. He waited for Steve to fall into slow step alongside, and the two of them began their conservative walk towards the door.

"Yeah, the same cloth," Danny muttered to himself under his breath as he recalled his words back at the hospital in Kandahar. He ignored the questioning looks he was receiving from Lou, Kono and Chin as he headed after his partner.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something here," Chin voiced to the other two, eyebrows raised.

"You and me both, cuz," Kono replied with a bewildered look.

"Guys I've stopped trying to figure those two out a long time ago. Figured you were already past that point," Lou said with the raise of a brow as he picked up the wheelchair, and followed the group.

"He's got a point," Chin said to Kono with a smirk on his face. "Trying to decipher Steve and Danny is like trying to understand how the pyramids were created. No one can really explain it."

Kono chuckled in reply as she linked arms with Chin, and the two of them headed towards the hangar's exit, where two black GMC Yukons were idling just outside the door.

Brick waited until Lou had loaded the wheelchair and had climbed into one of the SUVs. He opened one of the rear doors to invite Kono and Chin to get in. The Sergeant had already loaded Danny and Steve into the lead SUV, and he got in, joining them. He leaned forward to address the driver. "Private, get us on the move."

"Of course, Sergeant," he young man replied as he shifted the gear into drive and led the way off the base, the other Yukon behind following their lead.

* * *

 **TBC**


	29. Chapter 29

**I apologize for the long wait, but sometimes life things happen that unfortunately get in the way. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me and supported this story.**

 **I did do some research on Military Funerals, but have taken a few literary liberties with a couple of things. As a former reservist, I have nothing but respect for those who serve, and this is meant to show that feeling. No disrespect is intended with any inaccuracies that are present.**

 **Please enjoy.**

* * *

 **F** ort Worth was a scant 45 minutes west of the cemetery in Dallas, and it wasn't long before the two SUVs neared the main entrance. The large, black iron gate was open in invitation, like a pair of huge arms spread apart in welcome.

Steve somberly watched the scenery go by; the sea of crosses representing fallen soldiers and seamen. Soon Tac would join their ranks, and be embraced as another hero and ambassador of the fight against oppression and terror.

"You ok, Steve?" Danny's soft voice broke the silence.

In the whole grand scheme of things, he would be ok. Just as he'd done in the past, he would overcome and move on, body and mind bearing the scars of hardship, shaping who he was as a person.

"Yeah, I will be," he replied honestly, as he shifted his gaze to his partner. Because in the end he knew he had to be. For his own well-being.

Danny nodded in understanding before reaching out to touch Steve's arm, and he felt the gentle, reassuring squeeze. He offered a slight upturn of his lips in a silent thank you. He was fortunate to have such a good team; good friends around him.

The SUV's navigated the roads that meandered throughout the cemetery like a lazy river, and shortly after Steve laid eyes on the small gathering of people up ahead the vehicles rolled to a stop. His gaze roamed across the group in attendance, memories of Freddie's funeral coming back to him. The similarities were obvious, and like his friend Freddie, Tac was able to make it home.

He cleared his throat and pushed aside his rising emotions, erecting a mask of composure when he spotted Fox heading towards their SUVs. He heard a rustle from the front seat as Brick opened the door and climbed out. The Sergeant greeted his CO with a formal salute, which Brad returned stiffly.

Steve reached out to open the door when Danny stopped him.

"Hang on, Steve. "I'll get the door for you."

"Danny, I think I can manage a car door," Steve pointed out with a quiet sigh.

"Just…. humour me, ok?" Danny replied, and before Steve could argue further, the blond had climbed out and was on Steve's side of the SUV, hand reaching out to pull the door open.

"Lou, bring it here, would ya?" Danny waved Grover over, who had Steve's wheelchair already in hand. Steve rubbed a hand down his face in mild frustration. He really didn't need to be treated like he was an invalid, especially in present company, and he couldn't help his pride feeling hurt. He knew he could manage with crutches, and he was about to tell Danny as such.

He saw Danny eyeing him carefully, and he knew his partner could read the look on his face. The SEAL decided he needed to come up with a less predictable set of 'faces'. His friend leaned in close.

"Look, Steve," Danny began, voice lowered so only Steve would hear him. "I know this irks you to no end, but trust me. You feel fine now, but this will be a long day, and you need to do your body a favour and take it easy. You'll have lots of time to push your limits once we get home- much to my chagrin I might add. I am sure no one will think any less of you for needing some mobility help. Something tells me they'll understand, hm?"

Danny's expression pleaded with him to agree.

He sighed again, and considered Danny's words. He knew his partner was right, but his own stubbornness tended to shadow his vision sometimes. A trait he had a hard time reigning in in certain situations.

Danny waited patiently for him to answer, blue eyes searching his face. Steve swallowed his pride and nodded. "Ok, Danny."

Danny looked relieved, shoulders slumping. He waved Lou in closer. Steve allowed them to help him into the wheelchair, and he found that sliding out of the higher SUV and into the lower seat actually made things pretty easy.

"Happy you all could make the trip," Brad welcomed as he approached the team, a smile on his face. "I hope the flight here was smooth."

"It was, and thanks for the VIP treatment, Fox," Chin said as he escorted Kono out of the second vehicle, arm positioned so his cousin could hang on.

"Yeah, we really do appreciate it," Steve offered. "Made our trip a lot less complicated."

"Don't mention it. I'm just glad you were able to attend." He made eye contact with Steve. "You're looking much better, by the way."

"I made sure he behaved himself," Danny interjected. "If not for me he'd already be trying to jump off rooftops and chase down suspects."

Steve rolled his eyes at his friend's flair for the over dramatic. "Yes mother Danno has done a wonderful job," he fired back smartly.

"That's good to hear," Brad said with a smirk.

Steve glanced around, taking in the group in attendance. He thought Brad had said that Joe would be here, but so far he hadn't seen his mentor milling about. "Joe here?"

Brad nodded in affirmation. "He's over talking to Tac's family. Tac's parents and sister are here. Come on. Let's go over and I'll introduce you. Service starts in twenty."

There were, in Steve's estimate, about thirty to thirty-five people here, and he assumed that most of them were from Fox's compound. A handful of people were dressed in civilian attire; likely family and friends. The rest, like Steve, were in full service dress.

Fox turned to lead the way over to where Joe was quietly talking to Tac's family. Steve saw Danny move around behind him and grab the handles of the wheelchair. After a moment's pause the chair began moving.

"Finally I get to drive you around."

Steve smiled. "Don't get used to it, partner." As they approached, he noticed Joe was talking with a young woman, and he saw him lay a gentle hand on her arm as she wiped a stay tear from her face. Probably Tac's sister.

"Hey, glad you all could make it," Joe said when Steve had a chance to make eye contact with him. He said something to the young woman that Steve couldn't make out, and then came closer, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I am so glad to see you on the mend, son. I am sorry I couldn't come and see you."

"Thanks Joe," Steve said. He knew Joe couldn't come to see him once he'd returned to Hawaii, and he held no ill will towards his mentor because of it. "The phone calls were enough."

Steve was happy to see that Joe looked much better himself. The cloud of guilt that had been following the man back in Kandahar like one of those cartoon rain clouds had dissipated. He wondered if Jacob's body had been brought home as well, and if Joe had been able to pay his respects to his lost friend. Steve made a mental note to ask later.

Fox stepped in to make the introductions. "This is Commander Steve McGarrett and his Five-0 task force out of Hawaii. They workedan op with Mike in Afghanistan." He gestured to Tac's family. "Carol and Jim; Mike's parents. And his sister Liz."

 _Mike_ … Steve realized he never really knew Tac's actual name. In fact he'd never asked. It didn't matter. To him,Tac was Tac. The young, enthusiastic and skilled member of Fox's team; someone who'd valiantly given up his life so that Steve might be able to live on.

Steve realized his mind was wandering, and he pulled himself back into the here and now as he offered a small smile of sympathy. "On behalf of myself and my team, we're sorry for your loss. Your son was a brave man who gave his life protecting freedom, and he gave hope to those who couldn't protect themselves. I was privileged to have met him."

Jim nodded and reached out to shake Steve's hand. "Thank you Commander."

Steve guessed that Jim new little, if anything at all about what really happened over there. Classified is classified, no matter the case. They would only know that their son died in the line of duty. And sometimes, not knowing the hows and whys were the best thing for their mental stability.

"Captain, it's nearly time to get underway," Brick politely interjected after looking at his watch.

"Of course. Thank you Sergeant," Fox replied. He looked at the group. "If you'll excuse me ladies and gentlemen. He nodded supportively to Tac's family before he turned stiffly on his heel and headed to a chair placed near the mahogany coloured podium at the front, facing the seating. He sat down.

Steve watched Tac's family take their seats, and he took a deep breath to relax himself, heart heavy. He could see the emotional pain in their eyes; knew all too well himself the sorrow that surrounded the loss of someone to the dangers of combat. It was a feeling he knew he'd never really get over, and sadly, it was a feeling he knew deep down could happen again. Their line of work was not without its perils, but the reasons for doing what they did far outweighed the risks. At times a thankless job, it was one he'd taken on long ago and would do it all over again. No questions.

"Danny, take me to the end of this row," Steve asked as he gestured to a space at the end of a row of chairs; the perfect size for his wheelchair. He mentally thanked Fox for his foresight.

Danny sat down next to Steve, glancing at his friend. "You ok?" He questioned, a concerned look on his face.

"Yeah. Thanks Danno," Steve replied as he watched the rest of his team take their seats. It was a somber day for them all, and Steve was thankful his team made it back in one piece. Things could have been far, far worse.

Chin, Kono and Lou piled in the row just behind him, and they sat down. Steve felt a soft, reassuring pat on his shoulder. The hand felt small, gentle. Kono. He reached back and gave her hand a squeeze- a thank you.

Joe passed in front of him and took a seat next to Danny, and Steve smiled at the image. All was forgiven, and he was glad the murky waters between the two men had cleared.

-H50-

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-H50-

 **F** ox waited until everyone was seated, and he rose from his seat to the left of podium. He walked over, movements precise. Respectful. He glanced at the flag-draped casket to his right. During a full, formal ceremony, the casket would've been brought in now via hearse; but Tac had never been one for fanfare. The young man did his job and did it well. He never sought out accolades nor a pat on the back. So Fox respected his man's wishes, and chose to honour him with a smaller, more personal ceremony with only close friends, servicemen, and family in attendance.

He knew Shawn had been adamant about being a part of the honour guard, but with the injury to his Sergeant's leg, carrying the casket would've been a bad idea. So he'd suggested a compromise. Brick would be part of the flag folding.

Fox took a breath, and his icy blue-eyed gaze wandered across the small group before him. As the highest ranking officer present, and Tac's CO, he would conduct the service. It was both an honour and a privilege.

"Let me begin by thanking every one of you for joining me in honouring Mike Conlan, affectionately known by his peers as Tac," Brad began. "Bright, loyal, and determined are some of the words that merely scratch the surface of Tac's character. He joined me and my team five years ago, wanting to expand his horizons and make a difference in the fight against terror. If you wanted technobabble decrypted; needed the best intel for the job; it was Tac we all looked towards."

He cleared his throat, allowing himself a brief moment to keep his composure. He needed to remain the pillar of strength for the group in front of him.

"None of us wanted to see a day like this come, but know that Tac gave his life in service to his country at home and abroad, and in doing so he saved countless lives. Some directly, and some indirectly. All of us here were touched in one way or another by Tac, and his memory will live on in us, and in the good he brought to terror stricken lands. It was an honour and a privilege to have served with him."

Fox looked to Brick, and the three other men that were seated nearby. He nodded.

Brick rose, as did the other three, and led them to the casket. Each man stood at a corner, and they reached out, grasping the American flag and pulling it taut, holding it just above the casket.

Fox stood at attention, arm rising in salute as he prepared for the riflemen firing party and the playing of taps. A rustle of fabric accompanied the standing of those in attendance, and each man and woman in uniform joined him in salute. Tac would be missed, and as his eyes wandered across the gathering before him, he prayed he would not be returning here any time soon.

-H50-

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 **A** lthough Steve wished he could stand, he knew in his current state the best choice for him was to remain seated. He raised his hand in salute. A young man who he'd only known for a short time, Tac was one who'd displayed the very thing men of his character possessed. Duty, honour and selflessness.

Steve was here today because of what Tac did. And he would be forever grateful.

The firing of the rifles and the playing of taps once again reminded Steve of the parallels to Freddie's death. Here he was, again the lone survivor of a mission gone wrong.

No, scratch that. He wasn't the lone survivor this time, was he? In the end, his team and Joe had also made it out alive. Tac's sacrifice had not only given Steve a chance to live, but it was quite possible that Joe may never have been found if not for the chain reaction of events that followed their helo crash.

As the playing of taps ended, Steve watched Brick and the other men carefully and respectfully finish folding the flag.

Fox ended the salute and approached Brick, who handed off the folded flag. Steve lowered his arm, and heard the rustle of everyone else taking their seats. He could feel his partner's gaze on him, feel the concern that he knew he'd find in the cool blue eyes if he allowed his own gaze to shift.

Steve somberly watched Fox present the flag to Tac's family. Heard the Captain speak the familiar words of ' _On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's honourable service.'_

Steve cleared his throat to keep his emotions in check. Freddie. Tac. Both gone far too soon; both saving Steve's life; both able to make it home. It was a small victory amidst the vortex of tragedy.

-H50-

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 **D** anny stood patiently throughout the service, listened to Fox's words of affection and gratitude, and when the flag was presented to Tac's family he glanced over at his partner. Steve looked to be sitting as rigid and at attention as his recovering body would allow. Danny could read his friend's emotions that were buried beneath those intense blue eyes. He'd been schooled in McGarrett face reading, and what was once a solid brick wall of buried feelings, was now a picture of information. He'd just needed the right lenses to look through.

He saw the casket being lowered into the ground, and he swallowed thickly. Had they not been fortunate enough to find Steve in time, this whole picture would have been very different. One stolen glance at Chin, Kono and Lou told him they had similar thoughts on their minds, and Danny hoped that with this chapter of their story closed, they could all finish healing and move on with their lives.

Himself included.

He'd been so worried and bent out of shape in Afghanistan that he'd been too stubborn to see the bigger picture, and if he were being honest with himself, forgiving Joe back in Kandahar was one of the last pieces of his own puzzle of recovery.

As the service came to a close, he laid a comforting hand on Steve's shoulder. His own injuries from the battle with Afzal in Samir's home had slowly become less of a constant throb. The joint was stiff, and he hoped to get his shoulder more fluid with some PT. He made a mental note to join Steve at his next session. Overall he was happy at this point not to need a sling anymore. Damn thing had been getting in the way in the kitchen.

"You ok, babe?" he asked Steve once he'd sat back down, the ceremony complete.

"Yeah, I'm good, Danny," Steve replied after a moment's thought.

"That was a beautiful ceremony that Fox held for Tac, boss," Kono offered with a sad smile.

Danny was glad to see Kono back on her feet emotionally, and no longer drowning in the pool of guilt she'd fallen into.

"Yeah, Kono. It was. I am happy Tac made it home," Steve added. "He deserved at least that much."

"Well ladies and gents," Joe started as he addressed the team. "I think it's time to move on to the social festivities Brad had planned at the nearby mess. Everyone is invited of course. Not sure if he had a chance to mention it to you when you arrived. I see Brick already leading the charge. Man must be hungry. You coming?"

Danny looked at Steve, gauging his partner's energy level as his eyes roamed his face for signs of fatigue. Although his friend was good at hiding his true physical state of exhaustion, he likened it to playing poker with a master. One needed to seek out and learn the subtle tells. Even though Steve looked a little tired, he had a feeling his friend had enough gas left in the tank to handle some social time. Minus the alcohol. He wasn't wrong.

"If everyone else here is good with it, I'd like to have a chance to wind down and share stories," Steve said, voice subtly hopeful. "Danno?"

As much as Danny wanted Steve to rest, how could he say no? It's not like they were on a case and Steve would be jumping off buildings or running an obstacle course. To be honest some relaxed downtime with their new friends might do them all some good. Brad and Shawn were good people, and after all they've gone through together, Danny felt a deeper connection to the two men.

He better understood now how Steve forged so many close bonds with those he'd served with.

"Sure, I'm in," Danny replied. "Couldn't hurt, right?" He pointed at Steve, waggling a finger. "You know drinking is out, right?"

"Yes, mom. I get it. No drinking. Read you loud and clear," Steve jabbed.

"Count me in then, bossman," Kono tossed out with a dimpled smile.

"You won't get any arguments from me, brah," Chin voiced. "Lou?"

"Well you know I'd never look the prospect of a free beer in the mouth. Literally in this case," Lou said with a grin. "And since you're nearly like the designated driver, you're buying, right McGarrett?"

"Are you kidding? His wallet hibernates longer than a bear in winter. Rumpelstiltskin has had more natural light exposure," Danny quipped, garnering a look from his partner.

"Very funny," Steve snorted. He turned serious. "Let's go pay our final respects to Tac's family before we leave, and then we'll talk to Brick and find out what the details are."

"Don't you worry about that, son. I've got all the details. Go on. I'll meet you all over by the vehicles," Joe offered with a final squeeze on Steve's shoulder, and he turned to head back to the roadway.

"Come on guys," Steve said. "Let's go."

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

-H50-

 **T** hat evening, Steve lay awake in bed, blue eyes staring up at a room-darkened ceiling. Fox had arranged hotel rooms for Steve and his team. The Captain had done far more for them then he'd needed to, and despite Steve's attempts to offer a way to repay him, Brad had politely declined.

Steve couldn't sleep. Whether it was the fact his mind couldn't power down, or because his body was not-too-kindly reminding him that it had not fully recovered, he didn't know.

Either way, he decided that counting sheep wasn't going to do the trick, so he allowed the darkness in the room to envelop him, and his mind to reflect.

He'd managed to make it out alive from another life-threatening situation, but not without his body taking a beating. He remembered not so long ago Lou telling him he was indestructible. Was he? Sure he'd come out of several dangerous situations with his life intact. Truth be told he felt he was more like a cat with nine lives, and it was only a matter of time before he'd used his allotment.

Maybe not the next time, or the time after that. He played Russian roulette on a routine basis, and had so far dodged every bullet.

All Danny's talk of retirement and the restaurant- he couldn't really see himself doing anything other than what he was doing now. It's what he'd done all his life, to the point where it was in his DNA. It's all he knew. And really he didn't have anywhere else to be.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his musings. Frowning, he glanced over at the clock next to the bed, the dull red LEDs reading an early 2AM. The knock came again, an unhurried, gently tap as though the owner somehow knew the room's occupant would be awake to hear it. Or perhaps it was so not to wake anyone else?

Curious, Steve stiffly sat up, and switched on the night stand's lamp. He slowly moved his legs so his feet were on the soft carpeted floor. He took a deep breath as he grabbed his crutches and carefully made his way to the door.

The knocking had stopped, yet Steve's sixth send told him the person was still in the hallway waiting. He peered out the peep hole to see the unusually un-coiffed blond hair of Danny. He cracked the door open.

"Danny? Something wrong?"

Danny stared as though he'd forgotten his reason for showing up, hand running absentmindedly through his hair, messing the long locks up further. "Uh, no. No. I couldn't get some any shuteye, and I figured you'd be having the same issue, so….," he rambled.

"Danny. Danny," Steve jumped in to slow the blond down. "It's fine. I wasn't sleeping either."

"Oh, ok. Um good," Danny replied. "I mean um not good that you're not sleeping, but uh…." He glanced around the empty hallway. "Up for some company?" He blurted.

Steve looked behind him and shrugged. It's not like he had been sleeping, and perhaps some company and chatting might be just what he needed. "Why not. I think there's some decaf coffee by the machine on that table there."

He opened the door wider to allow Danny to pass by, and it was then Steve knew he was right where he needed to be. Doing what he was doing, and being surrounded by those closest to him. His ohana.

He smiled.

* * *

 **TBC**


	30. Epilogue

**Well, here it is, the end of the road. Thanks to everyone who has supported this story, and for all the wonderful comments. For my first real story, it meant a lot to have all of you welcoming me into the writing world. I'd never intended this to grow to the monster it became when I first started, but the muse was having so much fun that the story just kept getting larger and larger.**

 **Like the saying goes, 'all good things must come to an end', and it's time to give all you loyal readers some closure. I had a great time and I promise you'll see me back.**

 **Of course who could forget the steadfast encouragement of my beta, who pushed me to do this in the first place. Mahalo, Danno.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

" **U** ncle Steve! Watch this!" Grace exclaimed excitedly as she dove under the clear blue water and performed a handstand, her feet waving about the air, toes pointed. Her head popped back up out of the water as she recovered, a smile on her face.

Steve clapped with enthusiasm. "Great job, Gracie! Now show Danno what else you can do."

Danny looked from Steve to Grace. "What do you mean 'what else'? Have you been secretly training my daughter to catch fish with her bare hands, Aquaman?"

"Just watch, Danny. Trust me," Steve said as he patted his friend on the shoulder, reassuringly.

Danny stared at his friend carefully. When it came to Steve, the words 'watch this' and 'trust me' didn't sum up the feeling of reassurance.

"Watch Danno!" his daughter exclaimed as she dove underwater. When she didn't surface after nearly thirty seconds, Danny's stomach grew queasy with worry. He cast a glance at Steve, who wore a comfortable, proud smile.

Danny couldn't stand the suspense any longer and he was about to leap out of his chair when Grace's brown mop of hair popped out of the water. She was smiling triumphantly.

"Ta da!" Grace yelled before she stood up and ran out of the water, feet splashing water everywhere. Danny watched her approach, and he couldn't help but smile slightly at her expression. "Uncle Steve's been teaching me how to hold my breath," she told him.

Danny shifted his gaze to and innocent-looking Steve, and then back to the smiling face of his daughter. She looked so proud of herself that the quelled his original words in favour of praise. "Very good, monkey. Now go see if Aunt Kono needs any help setting the table, ok?"

"Ok," Grace replied as she grabbed a bright pink towel from an Adirondack chair, wrapped it around her waist, and ran over to Kono.

Once she was gone, Danny shot Steve an unhardened look of exasperation. "Only you would teach my daughter to nearly give me a heart attack, Steven." He waved his hand towards the ocean.

"Hey she can put that skill to good use. Besides, it might save her life one day," Steve replied with honesty, hands raised in a halting gesture as he defended his actions.

"Well let's hope she never has to use it," Danny told him. "And just to be sure of that, I know for a fact that she won't be joining you on any 'first tuna' fishing trips," he quipped. "Not after how mine went. She doesn't need to be part of any boat hijackings or end up on Shark Week."

Danny saw a flash of hurt cross his friend's face before it was quickly buried. He instantly felt bad. He knew that wasn't really Steve's fault, and he knew how much Steve had enjoyed getting him his first tuna. He also knew that Steve had been pumped about taking Gracie out one day to do the same.

"Just….promise me you won't pick up any stray men in dinghies, ok?" he offered lightly with a smile.

Steve perked up at that. "I would protect her with my life, Danno. You know that, right?"

"Yeah babe. I do."

Steve grinned. "Hey Lou!" he yelled. "You done cooking those burgers yet? I know Danny was busting your ass the last time over how raw they were, but don't be charring them to death, ok?"

Lou held up a hand, spatula waving around as he indicated the BBQ's cooking surface. "Don't worry, McGarrett. Your Chicago-born master of the grill is on top of this." He leaned forward to address the greasy, round beef patties. "That's right, isn't it my oh-so-juicy, mouth-watering friends." He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent. "Perfection."

"You sure you develop an identifiable relationship with those, brah?" Chin asked, eyebrows raised. "You may not want to eat them otherwise." He chuckled.

"Please, Chin. Trust me when I say I will have no trouble inhal….I mean eating one or two of these beauties," he replied as he rubbed a free hand over his stomach before pointing a finger at everyone. "And you all are not going to breathe a word of this to Renee. Capisce?"

Chin held up his hands. "My lips are sealed," he said conspiratorially before he turned on his heel and headed over to the table, taking a seat.

"Scout's honour," Steve assured Lou. "Right Danno?"

"Sure, sure," Danny agreed with an exaggerated salute. "So is it ready yet?" he asked, echoing Steve's earlier question. His stomach was starting to remind him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it was getting very chatty.

"Come and get it," Lou announced happily, and Danny thought the man looked like a drooling dog that had been staring too long in anticipation of a delicious snack.

Steve stiffly climbed out of the chair beside him before tapping Danny gently on the arm. "Well I'm starving," Steve stated as he carefully walked over to the table before sitting down next to a smiling Grace.

Danny watched him go. It had been a long four months of rehab and recovery, and to see his friend walking unassisted, albeit slightly stiffly at times, was a sight for sore eyes. Steve's scars were the only real visual testament to the ordeal the SEAL had gone through, and Danny was relieved that he'd bounced back so well.

Although Steve hadn't officially been cleared for active duty yet by his doctors, Danny knew it would be only a matter of time before his partner was chasing down suspects and driving his car.

When Steve had suggested the BBQ, Danny had thought it was a great idea, and now as he observed his partner, Grace, and the rest of the team, he knew it was a perfect idea. Aside from Grover's man might be a self-proclaimed BBQ master, but Danny knew a thing or two about cooking. He decided the next get together would be at his place, accompanied by a wonderful home cooked meal by him.

Danny thought back to the hotel in Fort Worth. He and Steve had talked long into the wee hours that night. About the job; family. And Danny knew, as he observed the people- his family, having a good time that this was where he belonged.

"Hey partner!" Steve's voice interrupted Danny's thoughts. "You comin'?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," he hollered as he quickly walked over to the table and sat down on the other side of Steve. "This food looks good, Lou. I have to admit."

"Why thank you," Grover replied with mumble around a mouthful of beef.

Steve's phone rang, and Danny saw a frown cross his friend's face once the call was answered. "Yeah. Hang on," Steve said as he rose out of his seat and off to the side to finish the call.

Danny stared, blue eyes concerned. His mind wandered to the last time those months ago when Steve received another phone call. After a few moments the SEAL hung up, and quickly placed a phone call of his own. Danny frowned in confusion, trying to get a sense of what the subject of the call was based on his friend's expressions and movements.

It wasn't long before Steve came back to the table and sat down, a look of his face that Danny thought looked a little sheepish.

"Well that was my buddy. He uh… he wants to know if we're done with his plane."

"And he waited this long to call and ask?" Kono questioned with a small smirk. "To be honest I'd forgotten all about it myself."

"So what's the problem?" Danny said. "Get it back from Frank. It's the first vehicle I think you haven't destroyed upon use," he added with a smirk.

"I just called Frank actually, after I hung up from Mark. Frank said the plane is missing," Steve muttered as though he hoped no one would make out the words.

"Missing? Only you could misplace a plane that's on solid ground," Danny jabbed with a smirk. "How did it go missing?"

"Well I guess when Frank was away and came back, it uh..you know he doesn't live in the best part of the world, right?" Steve defended.

"So what are you going to do, boss?" Kono asked through a poorly hidden laugh.

Steve had what Danny described a 'constipation face'. The wheels were definitely turning. He couldn't wait to see how Steve would manage this one. He didn't have to wait long before Steve sighed and pulled out his phone and dialled. He thought he was calling Frank back.

"Um Mark?"

Nope. Not Frank.

"Yeah about that plane…." Steve began.

Yeah, Danny thought as he watched Steve with a smile. All was right with their world once more.

* * *

 **THE END**


End file.
